Tears, Fears, and Fairytales
by OyHumbug
Summary: What happens when what was supposed to be an anonymous one night stand leaves his business card behind? It sends Marissa Cooper's world into a tailspin! AURM
1. Chapter 1

**Tears, Fears, and Fairytales**

Chapter One

Marissa Cooper felt that itch again. It seemed to strike her at the most inopportune times, when she was already stressed and unbelievably busy, but perhaps that's why it happened; it was the ultimate escape. Zoning out of her class, the stodgy professor droning on about absolutely nothing, she started making a list, a nameless list as that was her habit, in preparation for what was to come.

She wouldn't call herself a promiscuous woman. In fact, she could count the number of sexual partners she'd had on one hand, but every single time it had been a one night stand. Sure, she had relationships….well not one for a while. They never seemed to work out well. In high school she had dated just one boy, steadily, for four years, but she always refused to sleep with him. She knew he had cheated on her, but, no matter what, she couldn't give up the security of knowing she would always have someone at her side, even if she didn't really like that person. Then, in college, she had dated two different guys, both for approximately one month. They had both broken up with her because she had refused to sleep with them.

For some reason, the idea of sex had gotten warped in her mind. It was fine to have with a practical stranger, unattached, emotionless, no-strings sex where no one would get hurt and both parties would be physically satisfied, but sex in a relationship was a whole different story. Sleeping with someone you dated opened you up to pain and heartache. It was better just to wait until you knew you were definitely in love with someone and that they felt the same way about you. Then it wouldn't be just sex; then she would making love.

The first one night stand had been her first week of college back when she was a naïve, scared freshman. It wasn't as if she hated the feeling of not being at home with her family, for they had shipped her off to boarding school when she was twelve, it was the fact that she was, once again, alone. She had to make new friends, learn to fit in somewhere completely different than her elite, snobby prep school, and make it on her own. Her parents had refused to support her, cutting her off financially because she had made her own decisions concerning school, studying nutrition instead of business, law, fashion design, or one of the other respectable majors for a woman who would eventually marry rich and raise perfect pod children and continue the cycle of blind faith in the ridiculous, closed minded society they lived in. That night, her freshman year, she had found a random guy to loose her virginity to; she had just wanted to escape from her insecurity and doubt for a few hours. It had worked. She never did find out his name, and, in fact, never saw him again, but she could still clearly picture his face. He had been tall, 6'5'' at least, with a lithe build, jet black hair, swarthy skin, and eyes so dangerous, their intensity frightened her. Being that reckless had scared her, so she had sworn to herself that she would never have another one night stand again. Promises like that are hard to keep though.

It had been easy for a while to keep her word, but eventually her resolve started to wear down. It had been her sophomore year. She no longer was scared or anxious about school. She had made friends, formed a support system, and was doing well, but the night before her fall semester finals, when she was neck deep in text books, notes, and empty coffee cups, she had panicked. If she failed her tests, if she slept in and missed a final, if she forgot to turn a project in, a year and half of work would be for nothing. So, feeling that same need to escape, she had grabbed some money from her purse, put on a flirty outfit, and headed out to the local bar. Even though she was underage, they served her anyway; she looked old enough to be 21, and, if not, the owners of the establishment wouldn't turn down an easy buck. After sipping a few drinks, her confidence boosted from the alcohol coursing through her veins, she made her selection. This time she choose the opposite of the first guy, short, medium, soft build, mousy brown hair, and the kindest, gentlest, hazel eyes she had ever seen. With her second one night stand, she had been the experienced one, and the control she felt in bed that night carried over to her finals the next day and she aced every one of them. Again though, she swore that would be her last one night stand.

Junior year went by smoothly….that was until it was already May and she was waiting to hear if she had gotten the internship at the local gym she had applied for. If not, she had no idea what she would do to support herself that summer, and she had no time to send out applications to other prospective jobs. Needing to leave her worries behind even if until the mail came the next morning, she went to an end of the year part that one of the numerous fraternities were throwing, found the hottest guy in the room, not caring whether or not he was dating someone else, and flirted, teased, and played him until he was putty in her hands. He had been slightly taller than her, perhaps 6', with buzzed blonde hair, piercing, cold blue eyes, and a chiseled jaw. Finally, when he had been ready for her and she, again, had a few drinks in her to help dull the nagging protests in the back of her mind, she took him back to her dorm and used him for hours, never sleeping the entire night. He had collapsed in exhaustion sometime early that morning, leaving her with nothing else to do but get dressed and walk to the post office. When she got there, the letter telling her she had gotten the position was waiting for her. One night stand number three had served his purpose as well, but, just like with the other two nameless men, she had sworn he would be the last.

Of course that promise had been disregarded the first night she needed a proper distraction. It had been early in the spring semester her senior year. Her applications for graduate school had been submitted over a month before, and she was waiting to hear back if she had been accepted to any of them, and, if so, which ones. Classes, at that point, were a walk in the park for her, but the uncertainty of her future was another story. Not knowing whether or not she would get to continue on the road to her dream was driving her slowly insane, so, just like all the other times, she had gone out, this time to a dance club, bought a few drinks to steel herself against what she was about to do, and picked up a random guy to have her last one night stand with. If she had to describe what her fourth one night stand looked liked, she'd be able to sum him up in one word: dependable. He had brown hair, brown eyes, and his size and stature had been so average, she couldn't even remember the specifics, but that's what she had needed that night, stability, reassurance, and faith in the simplistic. Like before, it worked, she got into her dream school, and the oath was made, once again, to never have another one night stand.

Who knows what would have happened to her idea of the power of the one night stand if they hadn't of yielded the results she desired. Perhaps, if after the first one night stand she had been left feeling even more alone and unsure of herself, she wouldn't have had another one, but life didn't work out that way for Marissa Cooper, and there she was, sitting in another class, in another desk, with another piece of empty paper before her where she should have been taking notes, feeling that familiar itch to loose herself for one night in some nameless, attractive man, to escape from her mundane reality.

That was really the problem this time. She didn't doubt herself or her ability to get what she wanted or succeed. Her first year of grad school was going well, she had a dependable job, and a close network of friends, but she was still lonely. Looking around her life, she saw her friends settling down, falling in love, starting families, and she realized she wanted that, too. It just wasn't the right time for her yet; she had to finish school first, but, for just one night, she wanted to feel a connection with someone. Her mind made up, the rest of the two hour lecture passed by quickly as she made her plans for the night to come, arranging in her mind exactly what she wear, where she would go, and what type of guy she'd go after….and, of course, it would be the very last time she had a one night stand.

She had been watching him all evening, stalking her unsuspecting prey with her eyes from the moment he had entered the packed club. He was the complete opposite of what she had been looking for that night. If she was completely honest with herself, she'd admit that he was the exact type of man she always avoided, but, for some strange, undeniable reason, she felt drawn to him.

Somewhere along the lines, Marissa had become a very observant woman. She could spot a man and almost instantly size him up, figuring out not only what type of lover he would be but what his general personality type was. This man was no exception; in fact, he was easy to read. He was just like all the men she had left behind when she had left home all those years ago, the arrogant, blindly wealthy, spoiled playboys who got anything and everyone they wanted. Commitment phobic, they played the field every night, taking home a different woman for one night stand after one night stand, forever hiding from the fact that their father would eventually make them settle down, at least on paper, and start a family so that they could carry on the male line. It was an archaic idea that repulsed her, but for some reason, on the night she was looking for someone sweet, caring, gentle, and loving, her lust had fixated on someone who exuded the very antithesis of what she needed. _Maybe that's the problem_, she thought to herself. _You always go after what you think you need, ignoring what you want. Maybe it's time to think with your body and base instincts and forget common sense and good judgment for one night._

So, that's what she did. She sat back on her barstool, sipping the sugary sweet, colorful, alcoholic drinks the bartender supplied in a slow, steady stream, watching her soon-to-be conquest from afar as he made his way from woman to woman, searching for just the right partner to take home that night, and waited for him to come to her. Normally, she was the aggressor, but she knew he would have to play that role in order to be comfortable with the situation; his ego was too shallow to accept a powerful, dominant, self-assured woman making the first move. Finally, after three hours and four drinks, he arrived by her side, slightly tipsy himself from the various martinis he had consumed while making his way through the many female prospects. Her desire about to erupt, she knew she needed to make the conversation fast but yet leave him feeling as if he had been in control of the situation the whole time.

"So," he smiled at her, the charm oozing out of his strong, tanned face and warm, blue eyes, "can I buy you a drink?"

Returning his smile, Marissa went to stand up, grabbing her purse as she responded. "Thanks, but no thanks. I was just about to leave."

Walking way, a smirk on her face the entire time, she literally counted the three seconds it took for him to catch up with her, turning her back around to face him, his hand sliding suggestively off of her arm low unto her hip. "Hey, hey, wait a second. You can't leave yet; the night is still young."

"It is," she agreed with him, "but I'm bored here, and I have no ambition to have another drink. Suddenly, I find myself craving more than just alcohol. You know, "she said while laughing softly, her hands innocently going to play with the buttons on the front of his shirt, "sometimes a girl needs more than a nightcap to get to sleep. Sometimes she needs someone to make her feel completely….exhausted before they tuck her in."

"And say I take you home, completely wear you out, and then tuck you in, who's going to put me to bed," the smug, stunning man in front of her inquired suggestively. "This would have to be a two way street."

"I'm sure we could work something out, find a middle ground that's agreeable to both of us," Marissa conceded, letting her hands slip under his shirt to absently stroke the toned flesh that she craved so badly, smiling wickedly when her silky smooth fingers discovered his happy trail.

Startling her and making her lips curl up in a pleased grin, he pulled her roughly to him, sliding his hands into her back pockets before leaning down to whisper into her ear, his hot breath on her neck sending shockwaves of desire through her already aroused body. "Perhaps we should continue this discussion someplace a little more…..private." Without waiting for a reply, he turned her around, running his hands down her stomach, stopping briefly to stroke the bare skin of her midriff, before letting them fall lower and lower to the point where he was holding her right above her thighs, pushing himself into her ass as they walked in sync towards the back of the club. "We're going to the VIP room," the man called over his shoulder to the bartender, "and we don't want to be disturbed."

Marissa had never been to the VIP room before, so he had to lead her the entire way, guiding her up the winding set of metal stairs that took them to a dark, plush room filled with black leather couches and a private bar, illuminated with only red lights. As soon as the door was closed behind them, they were all over each other, his mouth seeking hers forcefully, his tongue prying her lips open to explore every available inch of her mouth, his hands ripping her flimsy top of her body, not caring if he destroyed it. She was no gentler. Needing instant gratification, she went straight to his belt, tearing it off of his body and pushing his pants and boxers to the floor immediately. Taking him into her left hand, she squeezed him roughly, telling him without words how impatient she was, while her right hand worked at unbuttoning the clasps on his shirt.

"I don't think so," the stranger taunted her, pulling back slightly so he could regain control of the situation. "This is not going to be quick; we are going to take our slow, sweet time for this round and all the other subsequent rounds later back at my place."

As he went to move back towards her, Marissa stopped him, holding out her hand to push against his chest. "Fine, we'll go slow, painfully slow if you want to, but we're going to my apartment, not yours."

"As long as it has a bed to fuck in, your place works for me."

"Ah, someone's not that adventurous," Marissa teased, taking her own bra and jeans off as he stood by and merely watched her, fascinated and aching to touch her limber, flawless body again. Continuing her strip tease, she bent down slowly to remove her thong, but as she lowered her gaze from his, he took her by surprise, lifting her up unexpectedly by her hips, and setting her down on top of the bar, swiping it clear of all the bottles and glasses in one, swift swoop of his dangerously powerful arm.

"Was that adventurous enough for you," he asked her, slipping two fingers inside of her core before she could even respond.

Sucking in her breath, her body automatically reacted to his touch, leaning back to rest on her elbows and pushing her hips towards him, panting out her response. "Just shut up and fuck my brains out."

"That I can do," he agreed, pulling her body back with his free hand, his head and mouth seeking her exposed, round, perky breasts, sucking and licking one and then the other, while his free arm wound around her body, supporting her as she lost control in ecstasy.

Needing more of a release for his lust, he pushed her back so that she was lying down on top of the mahogany bar, shoving himself up so that he was laying on top of her, sliding far enough up her body so she could, once again, grasp him, working his aroused member while he continued to stimulate her, pushing a third finger into her wet, hot core. Their tongues melded together in an endless embrace of fiery hunger and a thirst for satisfaction, they continued to pleasure each other with their talented fingers until the stranger couldn't take the foreplay any longer, violently pulling his hand out of her and making her cry out in rapture as he slammed into her, immediately filling Marissa to capacity. Moving in a steady, slow rhythm, their sweaty, taunt bodies in sync, they orgasmed together for the first of many times that night, crying out in bliss and elation; both of them panting afterwards as he collapsed on top of her, never pulling out, as they recovered for their next round.

Without a word, he flipped them over so that she was on top of him, sat up, and slid their still entwined bodies off of the bar, lifting her off of his second erection of the night and putting her down. Quickly they dressed, the stranger only putting on his pants and shoes while Marissa slipped on her pants, shoes, and his shirt, simply leaving the unneeded and excess clothes behind. Guiding her out of the club's back door, her body once again pulled tightly to his as he rubbed himself up against her ass, he let his hands wander up the shirt she was wearing, playing with her free, unbound breasts the entire time. Her body was his to ravage for the night, and he made it quite clear that he intended to take full advantage of the opportunity.

Sex on top of the bar in the private VIP room was only the beginning of the mind blowing night they would share. By the time Marissa fell asleep early the next morning, safely tucked away in his arms, snuggled up against the strangers strong, tempting body, she had no idea how they had survived as long as they had….how he had been able to go so many times.

Luckily, he had a driver, because there would have been no way for them to keep their hands off of each other long enough to reach her apartment. Five minutes into the ride across town, she had had enough of his playfully massaging and teasing, his hands rubbing coarsely over the front of her jeans or across her chest, and had pushed him down on the seat so that he was slouching, and had gotten down on her knees in front of him, tearing open his pants for the second time that night and taking him in her mouth, savoring his taste over and over again until he came violently. He had pulled her onto his lap, kissing her with so much intensity it made her entire body shake, until he pulled away and whispered that as soon as they got to her apartment he would return the favor. And that he did.

They had kissed and played with each others bodies the whole way to her apartment, taking long, leisurely breaks to explore the other with their clothes on in the hallways and elevator, but when they had reached her door, they were both grateful. She remembered thinking, _he must have a penchant for counters_, as he lifted her up in her kitchen, sliding her pants off quickly before moving his head between her legs and kissing her inner thighs, licking circles into them, before finally moving where they both wanted him to go, to her very center, at first merely blowing hot air on her. Slowly he had progressed from the erotic breathing, first kissing her, then licking, then sucking, and finally, when she thought she would burst from anticipation and want, his tongue had pushed inside of her, sending her over the brink as he returned the favor just as he had promised.

He was impatient though, not even giving her enough time to recover from her second orgasm of the night before lifting her off the counter, leaving her pants where they had been dropped, and carrying her into her bedroom, stripping the both of them and stroking her with his hand again before she even came down of her post-orgasmic high. There, in her bed, they had engaged in each other twice, both rounds of sex hot, steamy, slow, and incredible. Panting and sweaty, she had suggested that they take a shower together, an idea the stranger became excited about almost immediately. The cold, rushing, harsh water seemed to only heighten their desire for each other. Finally, after another round of sex in the shower and then a bath which included only erotic, tantalizing foreplay, they had made their way out of the bathroom and into the hallway outside of Marissa's bedroom when the stranger surprised her once again, turning her around quickly and entering her without any warning. Up against the wall, the sex had been fast, rough, and hard, a completely new and exhilarating experience for Marissa. Sore and satiated, he had carried her into her bed, putting her down gently before tucking her in and climbing into the soft, soothing confines of her sheets, snuggly fitting her body against his before they both fell asleep almost instantly.

As Marissa laid there, letting him slowly wake not only her mind but her body as well with his gentle, sensual touches, she knew that her one night stand was not over yet, despite the fact that it was 11:00 in the morning and normally she would insist that he already be gone. _Just one more time wouldn't hurt,_ she argued with herself, giving in to his pleasant seductions, turning around in his arms to take his mouth in a leisurely kiss, slipping her tongue against his and letting them roll together hungrily. _I should be starving_, Marissa realized, smiling inwardly at the idea,_ but the only thing I want is more of this stranger._ She got what she wanted.

An hour later, as she lounged in her bed, the blankets all strewn across the hard wood floors, her tired, sexually satisfied body laying exposed to the man she had spent the night with, she serenely watched him get ready to leave. He put his jeans and shirt back on quickly, slipping his shoes on before going to stand beside her, letting her eyes take her in one last time. Surprising her, his left right hand trailed from her bruised lips all the way down her body until he reached her parted legs one last time. Slipping in two fingers, he played with her briefly, smirking as he watched her peaceful countenance turn into one of lust and desire almost immediately. Reaching into his pocket while his fingers continued to move inside of her, he slipped out his business card and left it on her nightstand.

"Call me whenever you're in the mood for another adventurous night." And with that, he withdrew his fingers and quickly left the room, leaving behind a confused and aroused Marissa to silently wander what he meant. She was too tired to think about it for long though. Her mind and body finally at peace, relaxed, and completely void of nagging concerns and doubts, she rolled over in her bed to rest on the stranger's pillow, inhaling his delicious scent, before closing her eyes and falling asleep, dead to the world and oblivious to the little, seemingly insignificant, cardboard connection to her fifth one night stand.

It was late that Saturday afternoon before Marissa finally woke. Stretching her still tender body, her lithe muscles of her limbs gracefully moving against each other, she exhaled a blissful sigh before rolling over to look at her bedside clock. _Five o'clock_, Marissa laughed at herself. _When was the last time I slept in this late?_ Her good mood was spoiled though when her eyes caught onto something that was not supposed to be there. Reaching across the expanse of the bed until her nimble fingers could pluck hold of it and bring it to her still sleep-filled eyes, it took a moment for her dilated pupils to focus upon the scrap of paper in the dim, early evening glow.

"It's a business card," she mused out loud to herself, sitting up in bed to look at it closer, intrigued and baffled as to where it came from. Reading the name quietly to herself, "Ryan Atwood," she wracked her mind as to how she would have met this man or gotten his card. Suddenly a memory from earlier that afternoon slammed into her, making her drop the card as if it was on fire. "That's him….my stranger, my one night stand," she cried out, panic lacing her voice.

Her previous one night stand had been nameless faces in the crowd, but suddenly the unbelievably amazing, sexy man from the night before had an identity for Marissa, and the peace and sheer nothingness she had finally achieved after her night of passion disappeared to be replaced by worry. _A man with a name is harder to forget…impossible to forget_, she lamented, scrambling off of her bed and picking up the card. Running into her bathroom, she grabbed the pack of matches she kept in there to light the candles she used when taking a relaxing bubble bath and watched the card burn to ash in her fingers, attempting to singe his name out of her memory. It didn't work. Nothing would work. Terrified, she walked back to her bed, picking up her CD remote and turning it to the song she would normally listen to the morning after her one night stands.

The lyrics floated around her, their familiar nature and personally expressive meaning comforting in their blunt delivery….that was until the final stanza before the chorus.

You almost felt bad

You said that I should call you up

But I knew much better than that

And almost immediately I felt sorry

Cause I didn't think this would happen again

No matter what I do or say

Just that I didn't think this would happen again

With or without my best intentions

Now that she knew his name, it would be impossible to just fuck and run. There was a connection now, an unbreakable connection, and it scared her. No matter what, Ryan Atwood was a part of her now.

Hitting repeat on her CD player, she got up off of the bed and brought the blankets back with her as she settled down, once again, against the pillow of the man she had slept with so many times the night before and, again, that morning. Silent tears streaming down her face, she willed her body to go back to sleep, but it was impossible. As she lay there, the late afternoon passing unnoticed into dusk and then late night, there was only one thought raging through Marissa Cooper's mind: _Ryan Atwood, Ryan Atwood, Ryan Atwood_, and she had no idea how to stop it.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

_What else was I going to do today,_ Marissa silently asked herself, the pen she was using to write nestled between her front teeth. Absently reaching for the lunch that sat to her side, she picked up the sandwich she had packed, taking a bite out of it, before putting it back down, chewing softly, slowly, mindlessly, the familiar drone of the food network in the background lulling her into a calm she hadn't felt for days. _I know there's something else I need to do…_

"What are you working on," a loud, friendly voice interrupted her quiet moment, completely destroying her concentration. Picking the piece of paper up, they kept talking before they even looked at it. "A love letter, perhaps a confession of a new sordid affair….or a to do list," they finally realized before letting the sheet fall back on the table before Marissa. "Do you ever just stop and relax, do something that doesn't have a purpose?"

"I do; you know I do."

"Oh, that's right," the friend continued to taunt, "you paint or wander aimlessly through a museum all day."

"Not all of us are as exciting as you, V," Marissa returned to the vibrant red head standing in front of her. They had quickly become friends the summer before her senior year of undergraduate studies, working together while Marissa interned at the gym. V lived life on the edge, only doing what was necessary to get by and having fun the rest of the time. Life for her was very black and white, blunt, and to the point. She was independent, didn't need anyone in her life but enjoyed the company of people when she felt them worthy of her. Though she had high standards, she was not stuck up. A kick boxing instructor, she lived her life on the run, constantly going to this concert or that show, climbing this mountain or that cliff, surfing, biking, canoeing, or skiing whenever she got the chance. Spontaneous, she didn't make plans; everything was spur of the moment. Considering further education a waste of time, she had dropped out of high school as soon as she turned eighteen and worked hard to give herself a comfortable life. She was loud, opinionated, and in your face, everything Marissa wasn't. For some reason, despite being opposites, they worked well together as friends.

Startling Marissa, V waved her hands in front of the quiet woman's face, bringing her back to their conversation. "Earth to Marissa, where did you go just now?"

"I was just thinking."

"About what," her friend continued to push her, curious as to what made her normally reclusive friend even more of an introvert. "You've been acting weird all week. Let me see that list again," she said quickly, snatching it out of Marissa's grasp before she could even respond. "Well no wonder you're so depressed. 'Take test, go to library to research, get groceries, make doctor's appointment, stop by book store,'" V read out loud from the list, mocking her playfully. "Can we pencil in get a life, too?"

Pleading her case weakly, Marissa argued, "I like going to the book store. It's soothing there, peaceful."

"Maybe that's your problem," V offered, "there's nothing in your life that excites you. And what's up with your lunch," she rapidly changed the subject, making Marissa's head spin out of dizziness as she attempted to keep up with her. "Peanut butter and jelly on white bread, this is not the girl I know, love, and make fun of. That's something I would pack myself for lunch. Where's your normal lean turkey breast on wheat with all those disgusting vegetables?"

"It's comfort food," Marissa explained softly, her voice nearly a whisper as she avoided her friend's piercing gaze.

"Comfort food…..what's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with you, Ryan," the authoritative voice demanded loudly across the mahogany desk. "You've barely said two words since you walked in here. You didn't order anything for lunch, and now you're practically falling asleep."

"It was an…..interesting, rough, pleasant, yet tiring night last nigh, Dad. Let's just leave it at that."

"Let's not." Standing up, the older man made his way to the large windows in his office which afforded him a panoramic view of downtown Los Angeles. "I've kept quiet for the past few years, watching you sleep your way through life, but it has to stop."

Annoyed, Ryan's head snapped up to glare at his father. "Why? I do everything you ask of me. My work is never late, it's always sufficient. I don't get into trouble…."

"Yet," his father interrupted him, "but give you time and you will." Sighing, he turned around to look at his only son. "Listen, I understand. You're bored and sleeping around, a different girl every night, is fun, but it's also sloppy and dangerous. We, as Atwoods, have a reputation to keep, a position in society to uphold. It might not be fair, but how you run your personal life will influence people's business opinion of you."

"I'm 23, Dad," Ryan argued. "It's going to be a long time before I take over the company, and, by then, I'm sure you'll have me tied down to someone I really don't like, in an unhappy marriage, with a few brats running around to keep the family name going."

"Don't you want to marry?"

"And what," Ryan pushed, standing up, his emotions getting the better of him and finding a relief in sarcasm, "have the perfect relationship, perfect life like you and Mom. Thanks but no thanks!"

"Just because we….your Mother and I didn't have a happy marriage, doesn't mean you won't. You just need to find the right woman, someone you love, someone who understands this lifestyle…."

Frustrated, he interrupted the older man. "And what if I don't want this lifestyle?"

"Well then, we have a more serious problem than I thought," his father finally answered after several moments of complete silence. "What's wrong with you, Ryan? This is more than just a lack of sleep and a hangover."

"It's nothing, forget I said anything. It's just been a long week, a really long week."

Sighing, Marissa answered, "It's just been a long week, a really long week."

"Well, what about this weekend," V offered. "We'll go out, do something fun. A smart, grad student like you should know what that little, insignificant, three letter word means."

"I would love to, honestly, but I have a bunch of things I need to take care of this weekend."

Pointing to the piece of paper in front of her, V replied, "hence the to do list?"

"Oh this," Marissa laughed, "this is just for this afternoon after I finish work and go to my class."

"Okay then," V mused, thinking out loud. "It's slow today, so I can cover for you. Why don't you go out back and just take some practice swings on the tennis court. No one is signed up for lessons. You can have the place to yourself. Relax, work up a good, therapeutic sweat, think. I know how smacking the hell out of a tennis ball always clears your head for you."

"Um….yeah…..you see….I….twisted my ankle this morning." Avoiding her friend's eyes by taking another bite of her sandwich, she continued. "So, I can't really play tennis."

"Alright, fine," V moaned in a faux annoyed voice, sitting down, her back perfectly straight in the chair across from Marissa. "You twisted my arm. Get your drawing pad. I'll let you paint my portrait AGAIN!"

Giggling, Marissa stood to throw her garbage way from her lunch. "Thanks, V, but I have enough portraits of you to last me a lifetime. What I'll ever need fifteen versions of your ugly mug for, I'll never know."

Throwing Marissa's pen at her, she leaned back in the chair, resting her feet on the table people used to eat at. "Now that was just cruel."

"Cruel was the person who told you to buy that work out ensemble," Marissa teased her back, finally smiling for the first time in their conversation as she settled, once again, into her chair. Casting her eyes back down, she quietly asked her friend a favor. "Do you mind if we just maybe….talked for the rest of my lunch break. I kind of need someone to bounce my ideas off of."

"Sure, tell me anything, and I swear I'll pay attention." Satisfied when Marissa laughed again, she continued. "I'm listening. Tell me exactly what's going on."

"I'm listening, Ryan," the older man told his son. "Tell me exactly what's going on that made your week so long."

"Trust me," Ryan argued, turning his back to his father, "you don't want to know."

"How do you know?"

Sighing and sitting back in his chair, Ryan let his eyes wander over the only person who had been a constant influence in his life. They had never been close. His father….James Ryan Atwood III….had always seemed unapproachable to him, always a boss and never a parent. He had been close with his mother despite her health problems, depression and then addiction to the drugs she needed to combat the depression, both of which eventually killed her when she had died at such a young age. Ryan had been twelve. After his mom died, it had just been him and his father, so he had been pulled out of school, home schooled as he went around the world with his Dad to his various business meetings, learning the reigns of their powerful, influential investment company when he was still young. At eighteen, he had been allowed to enter college, the university of his father's choice, where he studied the exact same major and minor all three generations of James Ryan Atwoods before him had studied. School had seemed like a waste of time to him. He already knew how to run the family business, and even if he flunked out of school, he would still inherit the empire. So, he had barely squeaked by academically, but socially….let's just say he exceeded beyond anyone's dreams or expectations. He had been president of his fraternity, leaving behind the reputation for throwing the best parties and sleeping with only the best looking woman. He couldn't even begin to tally how many women he had slept with during the four years he had been in school. But now, that was gone, and he was once again his father's lap dog, endlessly bored, his only escape the beautiful, nameless women he slept with every night.

"Ryan, RYAN, RYAN!!, his father yelled to get his attention and draw him out of his silent revelry. "Where did you just go there?"

"I was just thinking."

"About….," James pushed. "Listen, I can't fix anything if you won't tell me what's wrong."

"You can't fix this, Dad," Ryan argued, his voice sounding harsher than it was meant to. He knew his dad loved him in his own way, and he loved him in return. They just didn't understand each other. "I'm just sick of everything," he finally confessed, turning to meet the older man's eyes. "I'm sick of the endless charity events and mindless parties I have to go for in order to promote the good name of the family business. I'm sick of the nonstop golf scrabbles, poker games, cigars and brandies, lunches at the club. I want more. I'm 23 years old and my life has already been decided for me. There's nothing left to discover or do. I've accomplished everything I can. Do you know how scary that is?"

"There's more to life than what you can accomplish in the business world, son," James spoke up, moving to sit back down across from Ryan. "There comes a time when a man can no longer accomplish things on his own, but he can live through his wife, his children, his family. He can sit back and help them become everything they can be and more, and that feeling of seeing someone you love succeed is far better than succeeding yourself. Don't you get it? That's why I want you to meet someone you can love and settle down with. I want you to find the peace in life a man can only find through his loved ones; I want you to have the life I always wanted for myself but couldn't get." Rubbing his face tiredly, he continued. "I loved your Mother, oh how I loved her, but we make it work. We had wanted more children, do you know that? We never intended upon you being an only child, but, yet again, things didn't work out the way we wanted them to, but you, Ryan, you have so much potential and love to give."

"I'm not so sure about that," Ryan argued.

"I am. I see it every time I look into your eyes." Lowering his voice, James pushed on. "You need to let go of the past, Ryan. I know you're scared of someone leaving you again like your Mom did, but unless you let yourself love, you'll remain miserable for the rest of your life."

Laughing ruefully, Ryan shook his head in disbelief. "It's hard to believe something that happened so long can shape your entire life. It's just…so hard to forget."

"It's just…so hard to forget," Marissa finally spoke up, letting her friend into her thought process. They had sat in silence for several minutes while she had gathered what she had wanted to say. V just listened, waiting for Marissa to feel comfortable enough to continue with her story. "Did I ever tell you what made me want to become a nutrionist?"

"I just always assumed it had something to do with your manic obsession with detail and control," V teased her, realizing that their conversation was going to be emotional, heavy, and finding it necessary to interject even a slight hint of humor into it.

"Not quite," Marissa laughed with her. "In fact, I wasn't always this organized. It just became a necessity for me when I was on my own." As she delved into her past, her eyes glazing over with memories, it took her a moment to pick up her story. "My parents shipped me off to boarding school when I was young, and it was hard for me to adjust, to make friends, but eventually this outgoing, popular, vibrant girl sat by me in a class and talked so much during the period, I didn't have to worry about saying the right things or responding the right way. It was easy to be with her, be her friend, and before I knew it, we were best friends. We roomed together the next year, and even though she seemed to be friends with everyone, we had a special connection. I was the quiet friend she could come to and just be herself. I never judged her or talked down to her, and, in return, she stuck up for me, helped me make other friends, helped me fit in."

"She sounds somewhat like me," V offered, noticing the parallels between herself and the friend of the past that Marissa was remembering.

"She was fun like you," Marissa agreed, "energetic, always up for a laugh, and she loved with her whole heart, but she was never as secure as you are."

Confused, V asked. "Was….why do you keep saying was?"

"Because she's dead," Marissa explained. "That's what I meant when I said it's hard to forget. She died when we were sophomores in high school, and not a minute goes by when I don't think about her, wish that I would have noticed something was wrong with her earlier, helped her through her problems."

"What did she have," V queried, suddenly lost in a past she didn't know with her best friend. "Was it cancer, drugs…."

"An eating disorder, she was anorexic," Marissa answered. "She was beautiful, but nothing was ever good enough for her parents, for her boyfriend, and she struggled with her weight. It didn't help matters that I could eat whatever I wanted and not gain anything. At first, she would eat whatever I did, but when she started putting on weight, she started watching what she ate. Eventually, I forgot to notice if she had dinner or not, if she had picked something up for breakfast before running to class. Our schedules were hectic. She had drama and cheerleading; I had art club and tennis. Plus, we had our other friends, and by the time we had our nightly catch up chats, the cafeteria would be closed and I wouldn't even think of whether or not she had eaten that day. I was young, naïve, and did not recognize the signs. When she started wearing baggy clothes, I laughed and teased her that she had finally realized that dressing up every day wasn't worth it. When she started withdrawing from social events, I was too busy with my own to notice she was always in our room. By the time the school realized she had a problem, her parents had her committed to a treatment center, taking her home when her stay was over and forbidding that she have any contact with her old friends. They thought we….I was a part of the problem. So one day she was just gone, and the next thing I heard she was dead. I wasn't even allowed to go to her funeral."

"And so now," V realized, smiling sadly at her hurting friend, "you want to save every broken girl you meet. You think that maybe if you can help them, you're helping your friend…."

"Aubrey," Marissa answered, her eyes lighting up as she said her friend's name. "Her name was Aubrey."

"It's a beautiful name," V commented, reaching across the table to hold Marissa's hand.

"I've always loved that name."

Silently, V agreed with her, squeezing her hand one last time before letting go. "But, if you don't mind me asking," she pushed her, "why are you thinking about this so much now; why is it bothering you after all these years?"

"It's just….what if I loose someone else like that someday. What if I can't help someone else that I love…even after everything I've done so that it never happens to someone I care about again?"

"You can't control the future, Marissa," V said gently, "and you won't be able to help every single person you meet who has an eating disorder, but you'll be able to help some, and that will be worth everything. It'll give Aubrey's life meaning, too." Getting an idea, she became excited. "Do you have a portrait of her….of Aubrey," she asked.

"Yeah, packed away with all the other reminders of my past," Marissa answered. I'll never be able to forget about her, but I can move on."

"You'll never be able to forget about her," James gently told his son, "but you can move on. It's what she would want." When Ryan looked up at him, he just continued. "Your Mom would not want her illness, her death to haunt you. She'd want you to live your life to the fullest, experience all the things she never got to."

"I know that," Ryan smirked, shaking his head as a smile took over his face. "She'd probably kick my ass right now if she could see me."

"No," James corrected him. "She, no matter what happened, was always a lady. She'd make you crack with ice cold, withering stares and the harshest silence you could ever imagine. Verbal or physical attacks were beneath her." Chuckling to himself, he got lost in thoughts of his dead wife. "You have no idea how many times I tried to trip her up, get her to yell or hit me just once when we were in an argument. It eventually became a game for us, I think."

"A game Mom always won," Ryan added, grinning at his father. As the two sat there in silence, their laugher subsiding as they thought about the better, happier memories of the woman who had so shaped their lives through her death, a peace settled over the room.

"Look, Ryan," James began, "I'm not saying you need to change right now, settle down immediately. You're still young; have fun while you still can, but don't ignore a chance for love if it comes your way; embrace it. You never know what could happen. The thing that could finally make you content again could be staring you right in the face."

"It's funny that you don't take your own advice, Dad."

"Ah, I'm an old man," James argued, sitting back in his chair, folding his hands over his slight paunch, and lowering his lids in thought. "Sure, I could marry again, but it wouldn't be fair to me or my wife. I've already fallen in love once, and when your mother died, she took that part of my heart with her. Besides, I have you, my friends, and my hopes for a daughter-in-law and grandchildren some day to keep me content."

Teasing, Ryan stood up, "I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you."

"It'll happen," the older man reassured himself. "And I have a feeling it could happen soon, too. But, for now," he continued when his son went to argue with him, "just enjoy the small things in life. I know, even though you won't share with me, that you have your secret passions, things you enjoy doing but don't let anyone know, so focus on those. Forget the outside world this weekend. Stay home, relax, do something for yourself….by yourself. Figure out what you really want from life. If you want to take the boat out, it's yours for the weekend, or, if you want to get away, my pilot and jet are at your dispense." Standing up, he walked around his desk to embrace his son in a fatherly hug. "Can you just do something for me, Ryan, just one thing?"

"Sure," Ryan offered, returning his father's embrace.

"Smile, live, be yourself."

And with that, he went back to his desk as his son left the office, confused as to what had impassioned his father that afternoon and unsure about how he would live up to his promise to him, how he would follow his advice and smile, live, and be himself.

She had no idea what she was doing, why she was there, what she was thinking. _Like telling him is going to make a difference_, she argued with herself, annoyed at how traditional her liberal mind was behaving currently. _Why couldn't he just go out of my life like the rest of them,_ Marissa lamented, hesitating as her closed fist approached his penthouse door. She knew he was home; the bellman had told her so, so there was no need for the note she was going to slide under his door if he wasn't. She had to do this in person. _He probably won't even remember you,_ her relentlessly mind taunted her as her hand approached the door for what might have been the hundredth time that night. _It's Saturday night_, she realized. Because of everything that was going on in her life, basic, fundamental, simple ideas and concepts like dates and time had fluttered carelessly from her mind. It was literally impossible for her to think of anything other than what she had to tell the man on the other side of the door in front of her, a man she knew nothing about but whom she couldn't get out of her head since the night they had shared two months before. _He's probably in there with another woman,_ she realized, going to walk away from the door, perhaps forever, when she felt her stomach lurch suddenly and stop her in her tracks. _Fine,_ she said to herself, _I'll do it_, and without another thought, she marched up to the door, knocked twice, loudly yet succinctly, and waited for him to appear in front of her. It took less than a minute, 46 seconds to be exact, for Ryan Atwood to answer the door, 46 seconds that went by in a shaky breath that seemed to last forever.

"You," he immediately said when he swung the door open, his surprise written plainly across his face. "I'd hoped I'd see you again, but after a few weeks went by, I figured you just moved on to your next conquest."

"Yeah….not exactly," Marissa responded, refusing to meet his eyes. "Look, I don't know why I'm here. This makes no sense actually, but, nevertheless, here I am….and you're right there, and you're probably wondering why I came looking for you."

"Not really," Ryan answered her. "You're here for a repeat performance, right, and I can't tell you how perfect your timing is. I really need to just forget everything that's going on in my life right now, and loosing myself in you seems like the best way to accomplish that." When she didn't move to walk into his apartment, he spoke up, his face and voice showing his confusion. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

"As much as I'd love to do that with you…again," Marissa began, her breathing erratic, her voice showing signs of panic, "that's not what I'm here for. Don't get me wrong, there is nothing I'd rather do than escape my life right now, but that's what got me into this mess, and now I need to fix it."

Showing apprehension, he questioned her. "Fix what? What are you talking about?"

"I….uh….look," Marissa began, visibly shaking her head to clear her clouded mind. "I came here to tell you the truth. Why, I'm not sure. I don't want anything from you, and after I tell you what I have to say, I fully intend to walk out of your apartment building and never see you again, but there's this annoying voice in my head, Aubrey's voice…."

"Who's Aubrey," Ryan questioned, bewildered and not following her scattered thought process.

"It….she doesn't matter right now. What matters is that," Marissa stopped to take a deep breath, her hand subconsciously falling to her stomach, "I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant, you're the father, and that's what I came here to tell you."

With that, she turned her back on Ryan, walking back to the elevator that would let her escape her own personal version of hell, that would take her back to a slightly imperfect world where her sanity would return and eventually everything would right itself, but a rough hand on her elbow, spinning her around, stopped her dead in her tracks.

"What do you mean you're pregnant," Ryan yelled, scaring her at his intensity. "You weren't on the pill? A girl like you….a girl who fucks like you, you should have been on the pill."

Suddenly exhausted, Marissa just spoke plainly, too tired to cover the truth or make it sound better. "I don't…fuck like that….well at least not normally. You can believe me if you want, I don't care, but what I did with you that night, I'd never done before."

"You were no virgin," Ryan argued, pushing her arm away to glare at her, his hands finding their way to his hips as he paced like a caged animal.

"No, I wasn't. I had had a few one night stands before the night we spent together, but none of them had been….like that, so intense."

"And I used condoms," he continued arguing with her. "I always use condoms."

"I know," she agreed with him, "but maybe one broke and we didn't realize it….in the middle of everything. Or maybe we just forgot to use one once, or perhaps one just didn't work, but that doesn't matter at this point. I'm pregnant, and trying to figure out how it happened isn't going to make this baby go away."

Frustrated, Ryan turned her to, animosity dripping on his voice. "So what do you want from me?'

"Nothing," Marissa returned.

"Let me guess, you want an arrangement," he continued, ignoring her response.

"Nope."

"A trust fund?"

"No."

"My family's name for your little bastard," he offered, making Marissa glare at him.

"Why won't you listen to me," she finally exploded, moving towards him menacingly. Throwing her hands in the air, she shook with frustration. "I don't want anything from you. In fact, the best thing for me and my baby would be to never see you again…EVER!"

"Then why did you come here," he pondered out loud, curious. "Why did you purposely look me up and come all the way here to tell me about a child I conceived during a one night stand if you didn't want anything from me?"

"Because," Marissa said quietly, looking him in the eye, "I want to be able to tell my son or daughter some day that I know who their father is, that he knows about them, that they weren't a lie or a secret or something I was ashamed of. I doubt you can understand this," she scoffed, "but I already love this child….no matter how much I can't stand its father. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really don't want to be here."

Once again, she tried to walk away, but he stopped her, this time with his voice instead of his hand. "And you're not going to go to the press?"

"What," Marissa asked, confused, turning around to look at him. "Why the hell would I go to the press? Why would they care?"

"You really don't know who I am…who my father is, do you," Ryan questioned her only to get a clueless shrug for an answer. "Let's just say that the tabloids around here would love this little piece of information. James Ryan Atwood III's son, the fourth in the line of men to inherit the family empire, knocked up some random slut."

"Nice, Ryan, really nice," Marissa yelled, pressing the down arrow for the elevator. "You're such an ass."

"I didn't mean it like that," he argued with her, once again, pulling her away from the elevator with his hand on her elbow. "I have no idea who you are, and I never intended finding out, but I can't leave it like this."

"Why, because you actually care," she taunted him. "Yeah, tell it to someone who will believe you."

"No, you're right, I don't care," he agreed with her, leading her into his apartment, shutting the door to her shock, "but I do know someone who would care quite a bit: my father. If he ever found out that I knew I had a kid out there and did nothing about it, I'd loose my inheritance."

"Wow, aren't we altruistic," Marissa replied, her tone biting. Sitting down on his couch, she looked up at him, wanting to cut to the chase. "So what does this all mean, not letting me go, telling me that you can't leave this the way I wanted us to?"

"It means you're moving in here," he answered her, going to walk away towards the kitchen.

"Like hell I am," she yelled, jumping up and following him throughout the apartment.

"Look," he responded, surprising her when he spun around to face her all of a sudden. "I don't want you or your kid here anymore than you want to be here, but we both need this. I need this because, like I said, I'd be disinherited if I didn't acknowledge and support my child and its mother, and you need this because, from the looks of you and your apartment, you can't afford to take care of a baby on your own. Let me guess, you're a student."

"Grad student," she answered him, "but I work full time. I'd make it work….somehow."

"Yeah, but this way you won't have to worry about it. We'll have a simple business agreement," he continued, sticking out his hand for her to shake. "I'll pay for everything while you just have to make my Dad believe that we're raising this child together….as friends and maybe, perhaps working towards more, that I'm treating you well, and that we're in a working relationship."

"And we'll live completely separate lives," Marissa inquired, "you'll do your thing, and I'll do mine. You'll have no say with how I live my life, what I do, who I see, or what decisions I make about the baby, while I'll stay out of your life completely."

"Agreed."

"And you're only to pay for baby and anything that affects it. I'll take care of myself."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Ryan concurred. Nodding their heads in agreement, they shook hands. "So, how soon can you be moved in….just in case my father does a home inspection?"

"I'll just need my personal items. The rest I'll sell, give away, so it shouldn't take me long," she answered.

"Good," he responded, walking her down a hallway. "This is the guest room, so I guess you can stay here. When I'm not here, you can have full reign of the apartment, but when I am here, especially if I have a guest, stay out of my way."

"Like I would want to spend time with you."

Smirking at her, Ryan let his eyes run up and down her body once before staring into her eyes again. "It's a shame to ruin that body with a baby, but, nevertheless, it's been a pleasure doing business with you…."

"Marissa," she filled in the blank. "My name is Marissa. And Ryan…."

"Yeah, he replied, turning back around, once again, to face her, "thanks for not…..you know…..insisting I have an abortion."

"A good businessman knows when to pick his battles. I would have lost that one. I'm going out," he continued, changing the subject. "You can move your stuff in tonight if you want. I'll insist that we go to her place."

Ignoring his comment, Marissa made her way into the guest room, smiling when she saw how luxurious it was, immediately configuring where she'd put the baby's things and what decorations she would remove from the walls to hang up her art work. Collapsing on her bed, she sighed, her mind reeling. _I got what I wanted after all,_ she realized suddenly, sitting up in bed and holding her belly gently. _I had wanted a connection, a family, and a one night stand, a business card, and two months of tears and fears later, I got that special someone._ Sure, life wasn't always a fairytale; Marissa's surely wasn't, but it worked in mysterious ways, giving and taking at random, fulfilling dreams and desires in ways that never expected. _A baby, my very own baby, someone to love_, she mused to herself, a smile gently caressing her beautiful, glowing faceAnd with that thought, Marissa fell asleep on Ryan Atwood's king sized, guest bed, in a room that was suddenly her own; his name, for the first time in months, not haunting her.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

There was no hiding the truth or denying it: Marissa Cooper was scared, beyond scared, she was absolutely terrified, and, besides the fact that she was frightened something was wrong with her baby, she was scared beyond belief that as she sat there on the edge of the exam chair, her hands tightly knotted together as she waited for the doctor to return with what she knew was going to be bad news, she wanted him with her. She wanted her baby's father to be beside her when her tiny, perfect dream world came crashing down around her, when those heartbreaking words left the physician's lips, cold and clinical in nature, to tell her that she had lost the only person in this world whom she had to love and who would eventually love her back. She wanted Ryan.

It was insane though, wanting him to be there with her, but wasn't that the pattern of her day so far. First, while she was walking from Ryan's…..their apartment to her OB-GYN's office, V had called her requesting that they meet for lunch. V, her friend V, was actually making plans. If nothing else, that should have told her that today was going to be one of those days that did not make any sense, but she shrugged it off, ignored her instincts, and continued on her way, agreeing to the meal with a smile on her face. After all, she was going to see her baby for the first time that day, and nothing could ruin that moment for her.

Everything had appeared to be perfectly normal with her pregnancy. The nurse had administered all the various tests she had been pre-warned about in the numerous books she had borrowed from the library, the doctor had talked to her about how she was feeling, gave her the exam she had been anticipating, and then, finally they looked at the innocent life growing inside of her on the sonogram machine, hearing the heartbeat pitter patter away at what seemed to be an insanely rapid pace but what was absolutely, text book normal. Sure, Dr. Griffin had chastised her for waiting so long to come in for her first appointment for she was already three months pregnant, but, other than her slight reprimand, Marissa was left with the idea that her baby was healthy and happy, his or her growth and development right on track with where it was supposed to be….that was until the doctor told her to get dressed and she would be back in a moment, that they had to talk.

Marissa was not naïve. She knew that there were many things that could go wrong with a pregnancy, especially before the fourth month mark where the risk of suffering a miscarriage decreased rapidly, but she had been taking excellent care of her body. She and the baby ate everything they were supposed to, not too much or too little. Their calorie intake was measured exactly, she exercised, lightly, by taking a brisk walk every night, and, every morning, she took her prenatal vitamin. There was no reason why she couldn't carry a baby to full term nor was there any family history, at least on her part, of difficult pregnancies. Because of her careful research, she knew what to expect as the baby continued to develop inside of her, she dealt with her side effects as it was recommended in her books, and she was already preparing the baby's things. When she had walked through those doors an hour earlier, Marissa had expected to pass her exam with flying colors, just as she would a test for school. To be told that she had to stay after her appointment to speak with the doctor, had not only made her feel as if she had failed her child, it had scared her. She couldn't deal with one more loss in her life, especially when she already loved her unborn baby so much. Sitting there, alone and petrified, she realized how much she needed the life growing inside of her and how much she wanted the father of her child to be a part of not only her baby's life but her own as well.

_You're being ridiculous, Marissa,_ she yelled at herself perhaps in an attempt to turn her fear and pain into an emotion she was capable and prepared to deal with: anger. _You don't even like Ryan. He avoids you, and you avoid him. When you see each other at the apartment, which is a rarity in itself, you both turn your back on each other and walk away. In the past month, out of the perhaps fifty words you've shared with one another, every single one of them was out of anger or bitterness, but yet, you want him here, and for what, to fight with, to take your aggression out on, to blame? He'd probably just feel relieved that he dodged that bullet, that he could kick you out of his apartment, his life, no longer having to worry about loosing his inheritance. _Breaking down, she let a lone tear slip its way down her cheek; it's pungent, saline flavor only reminding her of her pain as it was absorbed by her dry, cracked lips, lips she was incapable of relieving from their misery by either wetting them with her own tongue or applying chapstick. In an odd, masochistic mentality, she rather enjoyed he physical pain, for, even if just a second, it helped her forget her fear and emotional duress as she sat there waiting, watching for the door to open, listening for the sounds of the doctor as she moved down the hallway to, in just a few words, tear Marissa's life apart, waiting, wanting her to arrive as soon as possible and wishing for her never to return in the same, shaky breath.

Finally, whether or not it was what she wanted, the doctor did return. As she saw her enter the room, the smile on her face making Marissa even more certain she was about to tear her world apart, the taunting, vindictive voice inside of her head spoke up once more, perhaps, in an attempt, to steel her heart slightly for its inevitable breaking. _You're a liar_, Marissa ridiculed herself. _Do you even realize that when you tell yourself that you want Ryan here so you can hurt him, blame him, that you're not only lying to yourself but to your baby as well? Come on, Marissa, tell the truth. Confess your deep, dark, buried secret. You want him here to comfort you, to hold your hand, sooth your anxiety, kiss your forehead. You want him to not only be your baby's father in name but in action as well. You want him to love this child as much as you do. You want him to love you._

"Marissa," Dr. Griffin's words snapped her out of her revealing thoughts, "I'm sorry I kept you waiting so long, but I had to attend to another patient first."

"It's alright," Marissa whispered gently, her voice barely perceivable for the physician, as she looked down at her hands which were no longer clasped together but tenderly cradling the baby she had only started to physically see a few days before. "But would you just tell me," she pleaded, still refusing to look up into the eyes of the woman who was there to take her child away from her, "please, so I can leave. I need to be by myself."

Dr. Griffin merely chuckled. _She's laughing,_ Marissa thought disbelievingly, finally meeting the gaze of her doctor. Immediately, she was irate.

"I don't see what's so funny about this," she snapped, standing up and moving towards the door. "Have you ever heard of sensitivity, compassion?" Refusing to break down in front of anyone, she closed her eyes tightly, willing the tears away.

"I'm sorry," the doctor apologized, attempting to motion Marissa back to her seat. "I shouldn't laugh at her mood swings, but, even if you feel as if you don't want to be around people, it's important to let your….boyfriend, I would assume since I know you're not married and I don't see a ring, experience this with you. Let him in."

Marissa was not expecting that.

"Excuse me?"

"Why don't you try inviting him to come to your next appointment," Dr. Griffin suggested. "Trust me; fathers want to be involved in this process."

"I don't understand," Marissa replied, still completely lost as to what was going on, how she had gotten this confused, or why they were talking about Ryan. "Do you mean my baby's okay then," she finally gasped out, disbelief evident in her voice. She couldn't have faith yet; she couldn't get her hopes up only to have them come crashing down around her.

"Marissa, like I said during your sonogram, your baby is perfect. It's just where we want it to be at this stage of the pregnancy." Confused now herself, the doctor asked. "What are you talking about?"

"I just…..I mean…..when you said we had to talk…..but I was wrong…."

Sudden realization clouded Dr. Griffin's face. "Oh, no, Marissa, sit down." She went to the younger woman's side to help her to her chair, but Marissa was frozen in place. "Come on, sit down," she finally coaxed, practically having to force her down into her chair. Taking her hands in hers, the doctor spoke slowly, connecting their eyes in the process so Marissa would not only hear the truth of her words but see it in her eyes as well. "Nothing is wrong with your baby. You and your baby are completely healthy, and, from what you told me earlier, you're doing everything correctly with this pregnancy. Your baby could not ask for a better mother, Marissa." Sighing, the physician sat down, releasing Marissa's hands and giving her a moment to collect herself. "When I said I wanted to talk to you, it was not about the baby physically. I just wanted to ask you to bring the baby's father, your….."

"He's my nothing," Marissa answered honestly. "It was a one night stand." She could see how taken aback the doctor was by her statement. "Don't worry, I know who he is, he knows who I am and about the baby, and we're actually living together, but we're not a couple, not even friends. We purely have a business arrangement."

"And may I ask what that is?"

"He, financially takes care of my child while I convince his father that he has an active role in the baby's life and mine, that we are in a relationship," she answered easily. "This way my child will have everything and anything it needs, love, support, friendship, and protection from me and financial stability from him. He has nothing to do with me, my pregnancy, or my baby, and that's how it's going to remain."

After a moment, a surprised and thoroughly bewildered Dr. Griffin finally spoke up. "Wow," she exclaimed, seeing Marissa in a new light. She had always been the polite, sociable, intelligent young woman who reminded her of a gentle, lost soul before, but, after she saw and heard the defiant coldness, the determined detachment in her tone and expression, she knew she was just as strong, stubborn, and ruthless as she was beautiful. Someday, and maybe even in the near future, she would be a force to be reckoned with. "I hope you at least have a family member or a friend to help through this," the doctor finally recommended, once again finding her voice. "You'll need someone to be your Lamaze coach, to take you to the hospital when it's time for you to deliver, someone to help you after the baby is born."

"I don't speak with my family," Marissa said harshly, her obvious animosity and mistrust for them tingeing her words with a sense of distaste. "As for friends," she continued, "I mean, sure, I have them, but there isn't one I would feel comfortable with asking them to do this….to include them in this process, but," she amended before her doctor could argue with her, "I'll figure something out." Standing up, she moved across the room to the door that would help her escape from the hell her supposedly joyous doctor's visit had turned into. "If you'll excuse me, I'm meeting someone for lunch. I'll make my next appointment on the way out." And with that, she left Dr. Griffin alone, staring after her fleeing figure long after she had disappeared down the hallway and the self-closing door had hid her visage from the doctor's view.

Now that Marissa knew her baby was alright, she couldn't stop thinking about her doctor's appointment. Not the fact that Dr. Griffin recommended she find someone to support her through her pregnancy, but it bothered her that she had even thought about Ryan while she was so upset. It was bad enough that he even entered her mind when she was in such a state of panic and turmoil, but to even think about the accusations she made against herself, to even consider the fact that she somehow cared for him was absurd.

_There's nothing to like about him,_ she declared resolutely to herself, _nothing at all! But yet,_ she couldn't help but realize, _he did have his moments. He never asked you to even consider an abortion,_ she reminded herself. _That has to say something about him. Plus, you've never been able to deny the fact that you're attracted to him; two people who had as much sexual chemistry as you and Ryan did, have to have chemistry in other areas of communication…right? _And just like that, Marissa kept going around in circles. It seemed as if for every argument her mind could come up with, her instincts…or her heart had a counterargument. Why this was even happening when three hours earlier nothing would have induced her to even think about Ryan in any sense other than how to avoid running into him while they were both at the apartment, she had no idea.

"This is absurd," she finally exploded, verbally assaulting herself, drawing strange looks from the other patrons in the restaurant. "The only reason you thought about him in the first place," Marissa continued, her voice softer so those around her could not hear what she was saying, "was because you were scared. You were scared and alone, and you automatically, on instinct, thought about the person who should be with you in that type of situation, the person who would be with you if your pregnancy was like almost every other pregnancy out there, but the fact is, it isn't. You're a single mother, and, in a moment of weakness, you wanted your baby's father to hold your hand. There's nothing wrong with that; it's even understandable. As for the rest of it," her words trailed off as she was unsure of how to finish that statement, "chalk it up to hormones."

"Hormones," a voice sounded off behind her as they approached. "That cannot be good. Let me guess," V persisted, "someone is currently in the middle of a very unpleasant red scare."

"What the hell are you talking about, V?"

"Your period," she expanded, a little too loudly, eliciting stares. "You're on your period, right?"

"No, that's not it," Marissa glared at her friend, embarrassed and annoyed with her lack of propriety, "but now that the whole restaurant thinks I am, perhaps they would understand if I stormed out on you."

"Oh, you'll get over it," V dismissed, picking up her menu at once. "Ugh, I'm starving! Sorry, I was late by the way. My last kickboxing class went over and then traffic was a bitch."

Sighing, Marissa ran her left hand through her hair as her right one rested protectively on her stomach. "It's fine. I have nothing else to do today."

"Good, okay," V replied on autopilot before Marissa's statement could sink in. "Wait," she exclaimed, dropping her menu as if it were on fire. "You….YOU, Marissa Cooper, have no more plans, nothing else to do on Thursday afternoon. Where are the to-do lists, the stacks of school assignments, the…."

"I'm on winter break," Marissa interrupted, excusing her odd behavior. "Besides, I've been trying to take it easy lately."

"Have you been sick?"

"Well…, in a way," she admitted, avoiding her friend's eyes by suddenly appearing intensely interested in her menu when she already knew exactly what she was ordering. Unfortunately for Marissa, her ruse did not fool V for she pulled it down as soon as it was placed in front of her face.

"You and I both know that I hate word games," V insisted, watching Marissa carefully for any reaction or slight sign of what was going on, "probably because I suck at them, so let's just cut to the chase." When Marissa didn't say anything, she continued, vocalizing her thought process as she went over all the various examples of strange behavior her friend had displayed. "You've been acting weird now for what….a month! Let's see, first, you put notice in that you'll be unable to give tennis lessons any longer. Then you moved out of your apartment and in with a roommate, a roommate whom I've yet to meet or even hear their name, and, now, all of a sudden, you've gone from the organizational Nazi to Miss Spontaneity. What gives?"

"I'm pregnant," Marissa said simply.

"Yeah and I'm running for governor," V replied flippantly, her tone displaying her skepticism and exasperation with Marissa's answer. "Now, will you please tell me what's really going on?"

"V, I'm not joking around; I'm pregnant, three months in fact. Here," she pointed, handing her the sonogram she had just had taken that day. "See, that's my baby."

"But…..I don't understand," the flabbergasted redhead exclaimed. "Who….when….holy shit!"

"If you'd just calm down," Marissa laughed, "I'll explain everything." An emphatic nod of V's head told her to continue. "Okay, so about three months ago, I had a one night stand, and, before you say anything," she stopped her friend before she could interupt, "it's not something I normally do, but sometimes, I just….need a release. Well, obviously, one of the condoms we used didn't work or we forgot to use one once, I really don't know, but, whatever the reason, I'm pregnant. As for where I'm living, I'm living with the guy, the one night stand."

"So then…you two are a thing now, a couple," V inquired.

"Not quite," Marissa laughed. "We have…an arrangement." Noticing V's quirked eyebrow, she clarified…partially. Some things were personal, just between her and Ryan. "He knew I would need help financially with the baby, so, to save me expenses, he offered to let me live with him, strictly platonic. He has his own room, and the baby and I have our own, too. While I still pay for my own expenses, he takes care of anything that has to do with the baby."

"So then, what does he get out of this arrangement?"

"He's…..um….he's protecting what's his," Marissa answered her quickly, once again avoiding her piercing gaze and speaking in cryptically.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean," V went off, fed up with her friend's evasive responses. "You're lying to me," she pressed, finally lowering her voice when she noticed the irritated expressions on the other patron's faces. "There is more to this story, and I want to know what's going on right now!"

Giving in, Marissa confessed, "he has to make his father believe that we're in a relationship, that he's actively participating in his child's life, otherwise he looses his inheritance. As long as I go along with his lies, he'll support the baby."

"His inheritance," V cried out. "Just what exactly have you gotten yourself into; who is he?"

"I can't tell you."

"You can't or you won't?"

"I can't," Marissa said forcefully. "You don't understand this situation….you don't understand us. He…we can't let this get to the press, so I can't tell anyone."

"I'd hate to tell you this, but they're going to find out eventually," V pointed out self-righteously, too offended that her friend would not talk to her and tell her the truth to realize how she was hurting her. "When you're nine months pregnant and about to explode, it's going to be pretty difficult to hide the fact that you're pregnant. What's your little rich boy going to then? Deny that it's his kid?" Marissa's angry glare did not stop her. "He's just going to use you somehow, probably take your kid away from you, and leave you broken and alone; and, when that happens, do not come crying to me."

"I'm not a child," Marissa spat out in a rage, standing up from the table so suddenly, her chair fell over and her napkin slid off her lap and unto the floor. "I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, that's why you're living in someone else's apartment while they support your baby. Way to be independent, Marissa!"

"Maybe I'm not independent any longer, but I'm doing what's best for my child. My baby deserves everything in life, and I'm not going to punish him or her and take those advantages away from them because I had too much pride to accept help from their father. He's their FATHER and I'm their MOTHER! What we decide for our child is our decision. Until you can accept that, we have nothing left to say to one another."

Tossing down enough money to cover the cost of her drink, a simple glass of orange juice, and to reward the server for putting up with their dramatics, Marissa turned her back on her incredulous friend, completely astonished at her own behavior. _I defended him,_ she realized. _I defended him and referred to the baby as our child_. Hurrying out the restaurant, she didn't even attempt to wipe the tears away that were flowing rapidly down her face. Too many thing had happened that day, too many things were changing, too many feelings, unfamiliar ones, were surging through her body for Marissa to deny them any longer. So, for once in her life, she wore them on her sleeve, proudly. With her head held high, she left the restaurant, taking her time as she walked through the city to her next destination. She needed to calm down; she needed to feel at peace. So, like always when she was upset, she went to a place where she could relax and finally think in quiet: the art museum.

"Where have you been," an impatient voice sounded off at Marissa as she walked through the door into the apartment, a voice she recognized as Ryan's. _Oh my god, was he worried about me?_ An unbidden, warm, content feeling spread through Marissa, and she refused to analyze why she felt that way. She had tried to analyze her thoughts and actions all day, and had come to no conclusions, so she had decided to just be, to let herself feel and experience her pregnancy freely without scrutinizing every tear or every smile. The decision was freeing and oddly tempting.

"I'm sorry," she finally answered him, removing her coat leisurely and walking into the kitchen for a snack, unable to help but notice that he was in nothing but his boxers. He never normally walked around the apartment like that in front of her. "I just….I had a rough day, and I needed to relax, so I went to the art museum."

"Marissa," he pointed out testily, "it's 10:00 at night! There's no way you were wandering around a museum for that long."

"Nope," she agreed, unable to keep the smile off of her face. "After I finished at the museum, I was on my way back here….back home, but then I saw this adorable baby boutique, and I had to go in."

"I don't see any bags," Ryan reminded her, going back to the foyer of the apartment to look to see if he missed something. She followed him.

"Oh, I didn't buy anything. I don't know what I'm having, and it was too pricey…."

"I don't care what you spend; I have more than enough money," he interrupted her.

"I know you have money, but that doesn't mean I need to spend it. A baby grows out of their clothes so quickly anyway. It's ridiculous to buy expensive clothes," she responded. "Anyway, so then, after I was finished at the store, I was hungry, so I stopped and had dinner."

"By yourself," he questioned her. It was obvious to Marissa that the idea of eating by oneself seemed incredibly ludicrous to him.

"It's so peaceful," she answered. "You should try it sometime. But then, after dinner," she continued when she noticed he was about to argue with her, "I just….I don't know, window shopped. Do you realize how long it's been since I just enjoyed a day doing nothing productive? And this town is so beautiful at Christmas time. I've lived here for over four years, and I've never taken the time to even look."

As she finished talking, she went back into the kitchen, exhausting Ryan as he tried to keep up with her disorderly thought process. "Where are you going," he asked her as he, once again, followed her throughout the apartment. "I'm trying to talk to you."

"Oh, I know," she said hastily. "Sorry I'm being so scatterbrained. I'm just….really happy. Oh, and hungry," she motioned towards the fridge as she pulled out a bag of carrots and her favorite dressing. "Would you hand me a bowl, please."

Sighing, Ryan did as she asked. "Listen, I don't care if you're in a good mood or not or what you did all day, would you just shut up for a two minutes so I can tell you something?" Suddenly, Marissa was not so happy any longer, her smile instantly falling off of her face. "Thank you," Ryan said when he realized she was ready to listen to him. "I've been waiting for two hours before I could go out to tell you that we're having dinner with my Dad after the holidays. We're going to his house, it'll be formal, and you'll need to make sure you're off that day so you can properly get ready."

"That's what you had to tell me," Marissa asked, hurt. "If that's all you wanted, why didn't you just leave a note or, hell, tell me the next time we accidentally crossed paths?"

"You needed plenty of time to make sure everything was ready for the dinner," he answered her. "As for why I didn't leave you a note, we don't want to leave a paper trail."

Just as Marissa went to retort, a third, high pitched, whiny voiced floated through the apartment.

"Ryyyaaannnn," it whimpered.

"See what I mean," Ryan snickered, walking out of the kitchen and back towards his room. "You just never know who might be here, and we couldn't have them finding a note now could we?"

"I thought you said you were waiting to go out," she followed him, for some reason not willing to let their fight go. "It sounds like to me you already went out for the night!" As she rounded the corner of the hallway, Marissa suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. Standing in front of her, in nothing but her bra and panties stood Ryan's conquest for the night. "You've got to be kidding me," she yelled frustrated.

"Uh, like, who the hell are you," the short, peroxide blonde with the obvious fake assets and personality asked, looking disdainfully at Marissa.

Recognizing the situation could be dangerous, Ryan stepped in, moving to the rude woman's side. "She's my roommate."

"Wait," the ditz demanded, "I thought you said you were like rich. If you are, why do you need a roommate?"

Shrugging dismissively, Ryan responded, "she's basically like a live in maid; she cooks and cleans for me. I just call her my roommate to help save her some embarrassment."

"Oh, that's like, so cool," the shorter woman gushed, turning towards Marissa. "I'm like so thirsty though. Would you mind getting me something to drink?"

Exploding, Marissa asked, "Ryan, can I see you for a minute, please, in private?"

"Like, oh my god, you let the help call you by your first name!"

"Gigi, can you give us a second," Ryan asked when he noticed Marissa was about to completely loose her temper, walking away from his guest and immediately taking Marissa by the arm and guiding her down the hallway towards her own room. "Make it quick. This is clearly breaking our agreement to not interfere in each others personal lives. What do you want?"

"I wasn't the one who was attacking and demanding answers when I walked through the door," Marissa argued with him.

"Look, I have a nearly naked woman waiting for me, so unless you have a better offer, I suggest you cut to the chase right now."

"The help," Marissa hissed, furious, ignoring his comment. "You called me the help!"

"It wasn't intentional," he excused himself. "I had to think fast and that's the first thing I came up with."

"Uh, Ryan," Gigi pouted behind them. "I'm like really cold, and I need you to warm me up."

Hearing her voice, set Marissa off. "Ryan is trying to have a real conversation with someone who is actually capable of forming a sentence without uttering the word like or using sentence fillers such as um or uh to complete their pointless thoughts, so, if you cannot wait for five minutes to be fucked, I suggest that you invest in a vibrator already! And as for you," Marissa returned her attention to Ryan. "Just let me know the date, time, and details for this dinner within the next week."

Whirling around on the heel of her foot, Marissa stomped her way into her room, slamming the door behind her for effect. She couldn't resist temptation though and put her ear up to it in order to listen to what Ryan and his slut had to say. She was surprised when the only thing she heard was an amused chuckle coming from Ryan.

"Ugh," Marissa could hear Gigi complain. "Like, what the hell is so funny?"

"It's nothing," Ryan dismissed. "Don't mind, Marissa; she's just….hormonal, I guess."

"Uh, wait, are you telling me she's pregnant? You're like not the father, right?"

"Please," Ryan dismissed as he moved back down the hallway towards his own room. Marissa couldn't resist opening her door slightly to peer out and watch them. "Do you honestly think I'm the kind of guy who would knock up a common slut like that?" Gigi just giggled and trailed her hands down Ryan's bare chest and abdomen until she found what she was craving, squeezing him tightly through his boxers. "Why don't you go in and turn some music on for us, Ryan suggested. I'll be with you in a minute."

As Marissa saw him lean in to hungrily kiss the random woman he had brought home that night, she couldn't take any more. Shutting her door once again, this time so softly no one would hear it, she slid down the door until she was lying in front of it, emotionally destroyed. Tears instantly fell from her swollen, pain filled eyes, but she refused to let a sob escape her tightly clasped lips.

"Marissa," Ryan's voice startled her. _What does he want now_, she asked herself close to breaking down. "I….uh….brought you back your carrots and dressing," he explained his presence outside of her door. "And I grabbed you a water, too." After a few seconds of silence, he continued. "We couldn't have you interrupting us later," he elucidated with a snicker. "Gigi and I might want to explore other areas of the apartment later, and my maid would definitely kill the mood. Are you going to open the door?"

"I'm changing," Marissa lied. "Just put it down on the floor."

"Come on, Marissa," he argued with her. "I've already seen you naked."

"Just put the damn food down," Marissa screamed, her pain transforming into anger to not only protect herself but to get rid of him. He must have done what she asked, because she soon heard his bedroom door slam shut.

As soon as she knew he was gone and was not coming back, she finally let her sobs break free of her trembling lips. Stripping herself of her constricting clothes, she pulled on an old, worn, comfortable pair of sweatpants and climbed into bed, cuddling with a baby blanket from her past that she had brought out of her box of childhood memories to use for her own child while starring at the picture from the sonogram.

"Oh, baby," Marissa exclaimed in terror, "what is Mommy going to do?"

Stripped of her defenses, Marissa was suddenly faced with the truth. She did care about Ryan; she cared too much. It had all started the very moment she had found his business card, and he suddenly had become not a nameless one night stand but a man with an identity, a man with a name to forever link them together. And now…..and now she was carrying his baby. He was a part of her, and seeing him with another woman, with her hands all over him and knowing that he was kissing someone else, touching someone else, embracing someone else the very same way he had with her the night they had created the perfect, beautiful life growing inside of her, made Marissa insanely jealous. She wanted him to be in bed with her, laughing and smiling over the first picture of their baby, making plans and dreaming of their future together, just the three of them, holding her against him tightly after they made love and fell asleep in each others arms, his hands tenderly caressing her small, barely noticeable pregnancy belly. She wanted Ryan….not only as the father of her baby but as her lover and her best friend as well….and he wanted nothing to do with her. Eventually, she cried herself to sleep, the baby blanket and sonogram image both grasped tightly in her hands, while the carrots and dressing remained sitting outside of her door and down the hall from her room Ryan lost himself and hid from his fears in yet another one night stand.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Ryan had had a long, a miserable, annoying, long day, and now, of all things, he had to take his pseudo girlfriend who was pregnant with his child to meet his father, the man the whole charade had been created for just so that Ryan would not loose his inheritance. He had been dreading the dinner since the day it was organized, and, if anything had reassured him that his dread had been justified, it had been the past eight hours.

As soon as he had gotten to work that day, his dad had called him into his office to discuss the dinner for that night. He had wanted to know everything about Marissa, her favorite flowers, her favorite foods, her favorite drinks, so that he could be prepared for her. First impressions with his future daughter-in-law, he had reminded Ryan, were just as if not more important than first impression in a business deal. That night and whether or not they got along, he had stressed, could forever impact their relationship, determining his connection with Marissa and how much interaction he would get with their children.

Ryan had cringed at his father's words, each one seemingly worsening the blow to his mind and conscious. The fact that he was already assuming they would get married, that there would be more than one child startled Ryan, but, that shock quickly turned into fear when he realized that the situation he had put himself in was permanent. There was no way he would be able to wake up one day and have Marissa and their child gone from his life. That one night with her, _granted_, he conceded to himself as he made his way from his car to his apartment building, _it had been unforgettable_, had forever altered his life. Nothing would ever be the same again.

_How am I supposed to deal with this_, Ryan silently asked himself, _how am I supposed to live with her day after day, month after month, year after year….ostensibly for the rest of our lives…or at least until my father passes away….and not….give in. _

Shaking his head decisively, he punched the key in the elevator to take him to the floor of his apartment, berating himself for having such foolish, sensitive, adolescent thoughts. He was Ryan Atwood after all, a playboy, a man who was famous for having no feelings, for using women, for one night stands, parties, and leaving a trail of broken hearts wherever he walked. It was bad business to get emotionally involved. It made you sloppy and careless, and those were two things a young heir to a multi-billion dollar corporation could not afford. That part of him, the part that was capable of caring, had died long ago; the day he had buried his mother, he had said goodbye to love, because, in the end, loving her had only broken him.

"Marissa," he called out roughly as he stepped into the apartment, taking care to slam the door behind him. _No sense in coddling her_, he thought to himself. _Might as well make it clear that tonight is not a social occasion. It's merely one more ruse we have to pull off in order to finalize our business deal. _"Come on, let's go," he yelled, his irritation and impatience evident in his tone. When she didn't say anything nor did he hear or see her anywhere, he moved down the hallway. _Can she be any more frustrating,_ he quietly asked himself. _She's just like mom!_ As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he shut down completely, any last trace of humanity or kindness leaving his voice and manners. "I told you about this dinner weeks ago so that you would have plenty of time to get ready. We are not going to be late tonight. My father sees tardiness as a sign of weakness and ineptitude in a businessman, especially if it's because a woman caused it." That wasn't necessarily true. Ryan could remember his father laughing and teasing his mom would he was younger when she would panic and change her clothes over and over again before a formal gala or charity ball, but Ryan was determined to protect himself, and, if that meant he hurt Marissa in the process, so be it.

"Damn it, Marissa," he exclaimed. His face was red with anger and his hands balled tightly into fists when he violently pushed her bedroom door open, eager and waiting to continue verbally assaulting her, but, as soon as he entered the room, every once of resentment flickered out inside of him. His hands unclenched, his breathing returned to normal, and his face lost its reddened appearance. For several moments, he couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't even think. Finally, he whispered, "oh my god," moving slowly towards her bed and letting his eyes take in the sight before him.

There Marissa was, curled up in a little ball, her long, honey blonde hair fanned out across the pale blue cover of her pillowcase, her left hand brushed up against her own cheek, as if she had absently been persuading a thin wisp of hair off of her face, her right hand cradling her slightly swollen abdomen.

"What is she now," he quietly pondered out loud to himself, letting his eyes roam her body, a body he was surprised he was still attracted to. He assumed that as soon as she started showing, he would become repulsed by her, but her pregnancy seemed to have the opposite effect. He wanted her even more in that moment than he had the night he had first met her in the loud, pulsating, flashing club. Thinking quickly, he realized, "she must be about four months along already," the tight, figure forming, stretchy dress she had on only serving to highlight her curves and accentuate her baby bell and slightly swollen breasts.

Sitting down beside her, he lightly caressed her face, speaking lowly so as not to startle her when she woke up. "Hey, you have to get up. Marissa," he coaxed when her eye lashes fluttered but stubbornly remained closed, "come on, we're supposed to be at my dad's in an hour. He's expecting us and looking forward to meeting you." Laughing at her disinterest in getting up, he continued, "he has a personal chef who will make you anything you're craving." That did the trick, and before Ryan could remove himself from her side and distance himself from her again by dropping his mask of disinterest and contempt, her eyes flashed open and locked with his, the raw emotions radiating from her sapphire irises making his breath catch in his throat. There, as plain as day, he could see how much she cared…for the baby and for him, how content she was in that moment with him sitting beside her, his hand, forgotten, still resting on her soft, glowing cheek, how happy she was to merely be with him; he see the truth of her feelings burning so openly, so honestly, so unapologetically from her deep eyes of blue…eyes you could fall into and get lost in and not even care….making his heart tear in his chest, scaring him right back into his merciless, cruel behavior towards the mother of his child.

"It's about damn time you woke up," he shouted, standing up from the bed and pulling her up spitefully at the same time. "I can't believe this! I tell you weeks in advance about this dinner, asking you to do one thing for me, ONE THING, and be ready in time and look presentable for my father, and you pull this! While I'm off at work, you're here, sleeping the fucking day away! I'd hate to see what would have happened to you if I wouldn't have demanded you live here. You'd probably loose your child to protective services because you couldn't take care of them on your own, I mean, how could you when you're so lazy!"

"I was tired," she counted, screaming at him, not caring that there were tears of pain and hurt coursing down her face, a face that had been content and at peace moments before, "because I DID work today despite your demands that I call off to make myself look presentable, and working a full day exhausts me because I'm carrying YOUR child. Do you not care at all? Do you not have any compassion for other people?"

"What I care about," he returned, answering her question, "is the fact that you look like cheap trash in that dress. Take it off."

"No!"

Lowering his voice to a menacing whisper, he turned around to glare at her. "I said to take it off. There is no way you're going dressed like that to meet MY father. People of our class and deportment do not wear clothes of such poor quality or low taste."

"If you want this dress off of me," Marissa responded, challenging him with her eyes and words, "you're going to have to take it off of me yourself!"

She had assumed that would win the fight for her, that there was no way he would go so far as to remove her dress, but she was wrong. "Very well," he replied reaching for the hem of the dress and pulling it off her body, "if that's how you want to play this."

What he didn't suspect was that, once he removed the dress, she would be left standing in only her barely there, black, bikini cut panties. "Stay here," he demanded, tearing his eyes away from her exposed, tempting body as quickly as his head could jerk in the opposite direction. "I was prepared for this, knowing your lack of class, so I had my secretary pick something up last week. Why don't you put on a bra while I'm gone."

"Thanks for the advice, but I'll decline," Marissa said. For a moment she had thought she had seen attraction flash across his face, _but surely_, she dismissed her own instincts,_ I was wrong. _You see," she pointed out taunting him, "my breasts are very tender due to the pregnancy, and the restrictive nature of a bra only makes them more painful, so I only wear them when necessary which is very rarely, but, you would already know that if you paid any attention to me or took an active interest in our child." His back was turned towards her as he walked out the room, so she couldn't see his facial expression or read his eyes, but she knew that somewhere that evening, in the few minutes they had spent together already, she had hit a nerve, and knowing that gave her a sense of delicious satisfaction. The pain that he had evoked in her by what he had said would set in that night when she was alone in her bed with just her small, unborn baby to keep her company, but, for now, she had the advantage that evening, the power to ruin his world by telling his father the truth, so she could not let her guard down.

Surprising Ryan, his father had greeted them at the door….right on time despite the fight he and Marissa had before they left. The car ride there had been absolutely silent. While Ryan drove, Marissa read a book. _Of course_, he had complained to himself, _it just has to be a book on pregnancy and preparing to be a mother_. The fact that she cared so much for the child she was carrying bothered him.

"Come in, come in," he father had warmly commanded as soon as he swung the door open, a wide smile on his slightly stodgy face. "What, no coat," he had playfully asked Marissa, "but it's January."

"And I'm pregnant," Marissa laughed. "You have no idea how hot I can get. Be fair warned that if I disappear during dinner, it's just to go and find an open window. If it's this bad when I'm young and with child, I don't even want to think about hot flashes when I'm older."

Her honest, forthright nature surprised Ryan; no one spoke to his father like that, especially not a stranger, but, astonishing him even more, his father seemed to enjoy her innocent, playful banter and chuckled right along with her. Sighing in acceptance, Ryan went off on his own to the dining room, already frustrated with the way the evening was going. Sure, he had hoped his father and Marissa would at least be able to be civil to each other but best friends was a whole different thing. The sudden harsh voice of his father, edged with fear, startled Ryan out of his self-pitying thoughts.

"Marissa, are you alright," James asked, concerned. Turning around, Ryan noticed Marissa had stopped dead in her tracks and was staring off at the far wall of the foyer. Her face was unreadable. "Ryan," his father demanded, "talk to her. Fine out what's wrong."

Setting his jaw, he walked back to Marissa. "Hey, what are you doing," he demanded from her, finally breaking her from the spell she was apparently under.

"What," she asked confused before realization set in and she turned towards James. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, it's just….,' she paused, turning an enraptured face back towards Ryan's, "is that a REAL Georgia O'Keeffe painting?"

"Jesus Christ," Ryan mumbled, moving away from her and turning his back on both Marissa and his father who was laughing good-naturedly at her obvious awe of the painting, missing seeing his father go over to her and place a caring arm across her shoulder to walk her towards the dining room.

"Yes it is," James answered Marissa's question. "She was Ryan's Mother's favorite painter. I have several of her prints, but that's the only one I keep up anymore because it reminds of her….of Evelyn, my wife. If you'd like, you can take the others. They're just boxed away in the attic where no one can appreciate them, and it seems as if you're quite the fan yourself."

"Oh no," she refused, smiling at his offer but declining nonetheless, "I couldn't…I mean, I just met you. It wouldn't be right of me to accept something like that."

"Perfectly alright," he said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "I'll just give them to Ryan. I'm sure that way they'll end up in the hands of someone who will treasure them. But back to you," he changed the subject, "this interest in paintings, does it mean you're an art student. Ryan said you're in school…."

"I do paint, portraits mainly, but that's not what I'm studying," Marissa replied, surprised and curious as to what all Ryan had told his father about her. "I'm actually in graduate school, studying to become a nutritionist."

"That's a unique and admirable career goal," he commented, smiling down at her. "Tell me, whatever made you choose that area of expertise."

"That's a long, complicated, and, ultimately, emotional story." Winking playfully at him, she continued, "let's save that for our second dinner."

As they made their way to the table in the dining room, James nodded to show his agreement to her request, postponing their discussion of her job inspiration. Pulling out her chair for her, he glared slightly at his son. "Although this is something Ryan should be doing for you, it's a pleasure to help you take your seat, my dear." _Great,_ Ryan sarcastically complained to himself, _he's already given her an endearing nickname. What's next, she's going to be put into the will, too? _"And so I don't forget to mention it," James said sweetly, motioning towards Marissa, "I just wanted to let you know how lovely you look tonight. I was surprised though that you hid your pregnancy so much. I remember Ryan's mother wearing form fitting clothing. She said she wanted the world to see she was having a baby."

"First of all," Marissa smiled at him graciously, "thank you for the compliment, but it really must go towards Ryan." Turning to look at the man she was protecting, she pressed on. "After all, he was the one who got it for me. I actually had a different dress on, one that did show off the fact that I'm pregnant, but then Ryan surprised me with this dress as a gift, and I wanted to wear it instead."

James was visibly delighted with her words. Although he didn't say anything to Ryan, his nod of approval when they locked glances told his son that he was pleasantly surprised by his actions. Just as the first course was brought in, he turned back to Marissa. "So, tell me everything about the baby. Do you know what you're having yet?"

Taking the opportunity when it presented itself, Ryan finally entered the conversation. "She's only four months pregnant, Dad. You can't tell what she's having yet."

"What you're having," James corrected him, silencing Ryan for the rest of the meal. "This is not just Marissa's baby; it's both of yours. Speaking of which," he pondered, "have you considered any names yet?"

"No," Marissa giggled in response. "You're really on top of things aren't you?" James merely shrugged his shoulders in an unapologetic way. Continuing, Marissa added, "I have no idea what I'm going to name the baby, but, now that you mention it, I should probably pick up a baby names book." _Wow, another book,_ Ryan mocked silently to himself, _just what she needs_. "I can tell you one thing," she taunted the elder Atwood, "no matter what you do or say, nothing is going to convince me, if I have a son, to name him James Ryan Atwood V. I think that name needs retired. Besides," she smirked, glancing at Ryan, "your son here definitely broke the mold. I don't think another generation could top him." Although the words were said sweetly, as if her statement was complementing Ryan, he could tell in her eyes that her words were anything but nice. However, the insult was meant so that only he could understand it.

From that point on, dinner continued in the same vein, James and Marissa discussing the baby and her pregnancy throughout the entire five course meal while Ryan merely rolled his eyes and silently complained about their instant rapport and seemingly friendly feelings towards each other. Granted, if his father and Marissa got along, it would make his task in fooling the old man easier, but, for some reason, and he did not know what, he didn't like. _Perhaps you're jealous,_ his mind mocked him, only serving to infuriate him even more. By the time dinner was over and the three of them had relocated to the formal sitting room for brandies or, in Marissa's case, warm cider, Ryan was about to explode.

"Sit, sit," James offered, motioning both Ryan and Marissa towards the same small couch, insinuating that he wanted them to sit there…together. Every single fiber of Ryan's body screamed out that it was a bad idea, but he knew his father would suspect something if he protested. After all, a man who was in love with his girlfriend and preparing to raise a child together would want to sit by the object of his affections. Stiffly, he complied, making sure that he left a considerable amount of distance between himself and Marissa. "Ryan," James pushed, "she's not going to bite." Laughing, he pointed out, "you've been acting weird all night. Come on, relax; we're supposed to be having a good time together."

There was nothing he could do, so, as always, he listened to his dad, sliding his body closure to Marissa's and then reaching out to hold her hand when his father glared at him. As his dad and Marissa continued to talk, Ryan was unable to concentrate on what they were saying. The only things he could concentrate on were the smell of Marissa's faint perfume, soft and gentle in essence, and the feeling of her delicate hand in his. He had not done anything like this for years…not since his mother had passed away, hold a woman's hand in such an innocent, seemingly sweet manner. In the more recent past, whenever his hands had touched those of a woman's, it had always been purely sexual, animalistic, a way to remain in control. Instead, when he held Marissa's hand, he felt weakened, as if he had lost all his control and power.

"Well, Marissa," James nodded towards her, "I've been asking you questions all night. I think it's only fair that you should be allowed to ask me one or two as well. Perhaps there is some deep, dark secret of Ryan's you've been wondering about."

"Actually," she admitted shyly, "I've been doing some research into you and your company, so that I could be prepared for tonight's dinner, and I was wondering if you'd mind me offering my advice on something."

James laughed good-naturedly. "I always welcome new stock tips."

"Oh, no, this isn't about your business, per say. No offense," she apologized, "but I really could care less about the market. I'm lucky if I'm capable of paying all my bills and covering my tuition costs at this point in my life. What I wanted to recommend was that you diversify your charitable contributions. I read that your company donates millions of dollars a year, but you simply donate it all to The United Way, a worthy cause, don't get me wrong, but a man with your power and prestige has the influence to, through your donations, bring national recognition to many other charities of equal importance. Atwood Industries could come to stand for more than just sound investments, and, financially, nothing is better for a company's image than being a philanthropic champion of the downtrodden, sick people of the world or the environment. Just….pick charities that you feel strongly about, that way, it's more than just a tax write off."

James just stared at her, impressed beyond words, his mind working tirelessly as it started contemplating and strategizing his ideas, but Ryan took his father's stunned silence and Marissa's break from speaking and used it to his best advantage, finally finding a chance to escape from the horrifying evening.

Jumping up abruptly and replacing his glass on the silver tray, he moved towards the door. "We have to go," he interrupted his father mid-sentence. "It's been a long day….for Marissa. I had to wake her to come tonight, and she needs to be….back at the apartment early, so she can get some sleep. She worked today, and….."

"Wait a minute," James exclaimed glancing between his son and the woman he believed to be his son's pregnant girlfriend, "what do you mean Marissa worked today? You're working," he asked her before turning back to Ryan. "She should not be working, Ryan," he replied tersely, his annoyance with him flashing in his eyes, crystal blue eyes that matched those of his son. "Work related stress is not good on the baby."

Standing up, Marissa spoke to regain the attention of the room. "It is not Ryan's decision whether or not I work; it's mine, and I need to be working. You don't know me," she pointed out to James gently, "and if you did, you'd realize that I don't handle down time too well. I need to be constantly busy. Just to warn you," Marissa cautioned, figuring she might as well tell them, both of them, of her decision since the topic had come up, "I plan on working for as long as I can up until the day I give birth, if possible, so that I can use all of my maternity leave after the baby arrives, so I can spend as much time with him or her when they're just an infant."

"What if I could come up with a compromise," James offered, "what if I could think of something that would make us both happy, keeping you busy and working the entire time you're pregnant but in a relaxed, stress free environment."

"We'll see," Marissa conceded, moving towards Ryan, covering a yawn, "but, I'm warning you. I don't want you to pull any favors or strings. But, for now, we do need to be going. Ryan's right; I am tired."

"I'll call you then," James mentioned suddenly, a sly grin on his face, "and we'll make plans to have lunch together, to discuss this topic further."

Waving as she left the room, she nodded her head in agreement, smiling at his suggestion. "I'd like that, Mr. Atwood."

"Please, Marissa, call me James."

"Alright then, James, thank you for a wonderful evening." He followed them to the door, opening it for them as they said their goodbyes. "It was lovely to meet you," Marissa continued, putting her hand out for him to shake, but, shocking her, he lightly pulled her into a gentle hug, whispering softly in her ear so Ryan couldn't hear.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, too, Marissa, and take care of my little grandchild." Pulling away from her, he called out to Ryan who was already walking down the driveway towards his car. "Night, Ryan," and with that and one last smile towards Marissa, he closed the door and went to his study. He had some thinking to do.

"Hey, hey," Marissa called out to Ryan as he walked quickly in front of her. "Ryan, would you slow down for a moment. I want to talk to you."

"Perhaps you should just go back up to the house and talk some more to my dad," he bit out, caustically. "You two seem to be pretty tight already. Maybe he'll ask you to move in and take you and your annoying pregnancy hormones off of my hands, giving me back my stress free, quiet, peaceful existence, not to mention an empty apartment to bring my dates back to."

"What's your problem," she asked him, confused. "I liked your dad, he seemed to like me, we got along well, and, most importantly, I think I was able to convince him that we're in a relationship, just like you wanted, just like our deal constituted. I don't understand what I did wrong."

"Would you just get in the damn car," he demanded, moving to his own side and not even offering to help her in. "I'm tired of hearing your annoying voice and I just want to go back to my place, change, and go out again to find some chick to sleep with, forget this night ever happened."

Sliding into the passenger side of the car, she did what he asked, slamming the car door in the process, refusing to look at him. If it was even possible, their ride back to the apartment was going to be even more awkward than the ride from. Leaving, seemingly, did absolutely nothing to improve either of their evenings.

Ryan pulled into the parking garage, killing his engine and sighing in the process, as soon as they got back to the apartment. The ride back from the dinner at his father's had proven to be deadly silent. His eyes had been glued to the road, too stubborn to even look at Marissa. When he didn't hear her move to get out, he turned in his seat, finally noticing that she was curled towards the door as if she was consciously trying to get as far away from him as possible, her head resting against her own shoulder.

For several minutes he just sat there, watching her, taking her presence in. It was the second time that evening that he had watched her sleep, but it was just as fascinating, just as mesmerizing as the first time. His mind told him to turn away, to not watch her, but his body was incapable of moving, frozen in place.

Perhaps sensing the change in her environment, the car heater no longer on to keep them warm, Marissa twisted in her seat, attempting to find a comfortable position in the cramped sports car and a way to warm her chilled body. He could see goosebumps forming on her bare legs, but still he did nothing but watch her, eventually letting his eyes move from her body to her face.

_She was crying_, he realized, the tear tracks and smeared makeup unarguable signs of distress and pain on her otherwise flawless face. _She must have cried herself to sleep_. The thought did not sit well. _I did that….I made her cry_. Admitting that cost him though, admitting the truth to himself and comprehending its significance, the fact that he was now capable of noticing her various emotions, a sign that he was starting to care, was enough to snap him out of his trance. Pressing his fist abruptly into the car's horn, the loud, abrasive noise filled the small space of the car and echoed throughout the nearly empty parking garage, snapping Marissa awake in a panic.

For a moment she did not know where she was, whom she was with, but slowly, as her eyes adjusted to the dim light of their surrounds, she became aware of the fact that she was still in Ryan's car, with him, that they were back at the apartment, in the parking garage, that she was cold, and he, once again, looked furious. Little did she know whom he was really mad at.

"Get out," he ordered her. When she was slow to move, he reached across her body and opened the door for her, pushing it open roughly, and tossing her purse onto the ground outside of the car. "I told you I wanted to go out when we got back," he excused his rude, scathing behavior."

"But….I thought you said you were going to change first."

"Plans change," he dismissed, starting the car back up as she climbed out of it. "At this point, the idea of having to spend one more moment with you makes me sick to my stomach. I want you out of my sight now!"

With that, he pealed out of the parking spot, leaving an emotionally destroyed Marissa in his tracks. Collapsing onto the cement of the parking garage, not caring that she was ruining the dress she was wearing, she fumbled around in the dark until she found her purse. Sobbing, she opened it, moving her hand around inside of it until she found what she was seeking. Grasping the little, black and white photograph tightly, she let her bag drop back to the ground and laid down on the cold floor, hoping its iciness would numb her aching heart, the beautiful sonogram of her baby in her hands the only source of warmth or comfort in her life. It was amazing really, that the man who had given her so much, her child, could, so easily, in just one breath, take everything else away from her.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Ryan was wide awake; his high from the several orgasms he had experienced that night had not yet worn off as he stumbled into his apartment, slightly intoxicated, the smell of expensive, foreign perfume saturating his clothes. At this point he didn't even bother spending the night with the women he coldly fucked. If they didn't come back to his place with him, he got what he wanted from them, wore them out to the point where they fell asleep as soon as he was satisfied, and then he went back to his place to relax, grab something to eat, and get a good night's sleep in his own luxurious bed, attempting to keep his mind from wandering to his roommate.

It had been three months since their dinner with his father, and while many things had changed, others remained stagnant. Apparently, through the tiny wisps of information his dad revealed in passing, James and Marissa continued to grow closer. Although he had not been able to convince her quit her job and take a paid position at Atwood Industries to manage and control the company's charitable funds, she was working as a pro-bono consultant, helping him remodel their image through various contributions to benevolent institutions. Ryan was just glad he did not have to face her at the office at well. That was the one place where he could finally escape from her, lose himself in his work and forget the only woman he couldn't seem to ignore. His father also had dinner with her once a week, just the two of them. What they discussed, what they did, where they went, he never knew. His father assumed Marissa told him; Marissa couldn't be bothered to tell him anything. He did know that his dad escorted Marissa to every new gallery opening for all the various art museums in the city, but he had learned of that from the gossip pages.

Their living situation was utterly frightening. Marissa did what she wanted, breezing in and out of the apartment, day or night, without a word to him. The only time they would speak is if he addressed her first, and then, when she would actually turn her icy, cold, empty gaze upon him and speak, her words were to the point and lacking of any emotion. She wasn't rude; to be rude would require feelings. Instead, she merely existed with him, treating him as if what he did and said did not matter to her, and, suddenly, he was confronted with the very thing he had thought he wanted only to realize he was wrong.

He had told himself that he didn't want her to care, but the truth was, even though he felt nothing for her, knowing that he didn't matter to her was painful and difficult to swallow. It had been gratifying to believe such an intelligent, beautiful woman had feelings for him, because he had never had that before. With every other woman he slept with, they were just notches on his belt, conquests he forgot about the next morning and never saw again. Somehow though, Marissa was different. If he had known that her behavior was all an act, a mask and role she was using to protect herself, push him away, and ensure that her child was safe and healthy, that she was just as talented as he was at employing insensitivity and indifference to disguise her true feelings, who knows how he would have reacted.

Stepping into the apartment, his less dominant senses informing him that something was different about the environment that night, he let the door shut behind him softly as he drifted his way towards the living room and hallway that would take him back to his room. There were soft strains of music floating in the air, gentle, mesmerizing, soothing melodies that were a welcome change from the usual angry, anti-men, feminine rock music that Marissa usually listened to. Paint fumes disturbed the normally pleasant aroma of the living space, and a delicate breeze caressed his skin as he entered the main room, the sight in from of him surprising him to no end.

There, with every light brightly blazing, stood Marissa, clad in a robe, what was beneath it, if anything, he had no idea, as she set up an easel and various art supplies. Every window in the room was thrown open, allowing in the cool, late night, April air and bringing goosebumps to his skin. He knew that she had seen him, but, no matter how long he stood there waiting to see if she would acknowledge his presence, she just kept working.

"I see you decided to give PJ Harvey a rest tonight?" He finally spoke out loud, breaking the silence of the room, his tone playfully mocking, obviously attempting to make conversation, only to be met with Marissa's back turning to face him. _Guess she thought that was rhetorical question_, he testily remarked to himself. Still, no matter how hard she was to talk to, his curiosity had been peaked by her behavior, so he pushed on, looking for some answers to the questions that were pervading his mind, the previous contentment and pleasure he had been feeling as he stepped off the elevator from another one night stand forgotten.

"What's going on," he asked, expanding his question before she could respond or ignore him once again. "What are you doing up still? You're always asleep by the time I crawl in this late. And why are the windows all open, and why does the apartment spell like paint?"

"My baby," she stressed the possessive pronoun, "is keeping me up because it won't stop kicking, and the windows are open to alleviate the paint fumes because I remodeled my bedroom today, turning part of it into a nursery."

The whole time she answered his questions, she kept her back towards him, refusing to meet his eye or even bother to stop her work as she responded. Though her answers were detailed enough to eradicate any further questions he had, her tone polite yet remote at the same time, he could tell that she just wanted to be left alone. So, without another word he walked down the hallway which led to their bedrooms, shocking himself when he moved right past his own door which remained closed and approached hers as quietly as he could so she wouldn't realize he was looking at what she had done. Fortunately, it was easy to observe, for she had left the door open and the lights on.

She had divided the large bedroom in two by affixing transparent sheers from the ceiling and tying them back on both walls to create a passage way between the two portions of the room. The two shared, long walls that made up a part of both her sleeping quarters and the baby's were painted a warm, inviting, soft yellow, serving as mini galleries for her art work, but the end walls each contained a separate mural. While her side contained a large, close up painting of a sunflower, so detailed one, at first glance, would dismiss the original artwork as an enlarged photograph, the baby's portion, complete with a petite, beautiful bassinet with mosquito netting floating around it for decorative effect, had a mural of a night sky. While there were many small stars on the wall, she had painted a larger one far off in the right corner, obviously intending it to resemble the North Star, because, over the whole wall, in a steady, calligraphic hand, she had written the nursery rhyme "Star Light, Star Bright."

The linens on both her bed and in the bassinet were a crisp white, simplistic in order to draw attention to the art work yet inviting and relaxed at the same time. However, the rest of the room disappeared from his sight as Ryan's eyes fell upon the tiny, lone decoration on her bedside table. In a simple, clean, white frame resided the sonogram picture that, unbeknownst to Ryan, had served as Marissa's source of comfort and strength when he had done his best to break her and cut her down for his own protection. After just a few seconds though, he had to turn away. The sight of the baby, of Marissa's baby, the baby he had made with her haunted him to the point where it suddenly became hard for him to breathe, and he had to walk away from her room as quickly as he could. Not stopping when he reached his own door, he continued back into the living room on his way to the kitchen, needing something strong, something potent to not only give him back the buzz he had been feeling before the reality of his life had sobered him up but to completely knock him out of his senses. Total and complete oblivion was the only way he would be able to erase the image of the sonogram from his mind. However, having the capability to make it to the kitchen proved impossible.

Casting his eyes around the living room when he stepped into it, Ryan immediately froze, too enthralled by the sight in front of him to move. Positioned in the center of the room so that the mirror above the fireplace reflected her image back to her, Marissa stood painting her own portrait, not of her face though but, instead, of her body, capturing every detail of her seventh month of pregnancy in a piece of art, completely nude except for the skimpy, thin shorts she had that rested well below her swollen, glistening abdomen. The portrait was simply a black and white image, but, in Ryan's opinion, he had never seen anything so profound or exquisite.

She had not noticed him in the room though, so she continued painting, blissfully unaware of the audience she had attracted. It was the first time in three months that he had seen her smile, and not even Ryan could take that simple joy from Marissa. So, with the idea of losing himself in the depths of a clear bottle of liquor forgotten, Ryan silently turned back around and made his way to his room, opening and shutting the door as quietly as he could, knowing dreamless, peaceful sleep would be impossible for him that night.

It was early the next morning, Saturday, and, although Marissa had not gotten much sleep the night before because of her little soccer player using her kidneys as a target, she was still awake and preparing for her day. She had errands to run that morning and then, that afternoon, she had her first Lamaze class. Ignoring Dr. Griffin's recommendation, she was taking the classes by herself. There was no one she wanted by her side, no one in her life she felt close enough with to share such a special, life altering moment. She had been independent for years now, so why should pregnancy and motherhood change that?

Yawning, she opened the cupboard and pulled out the container of oatmeal. While she set a pan of water on the stove to boil, she quietly ate a banana, making silent plans with herself that she would come home after her class and take a nap. There was no sense in exhausting herself, especially since she had finals coming up in a few weeks. Somehow, she had managed to complete her second term of graduate school, work full time, and take care of herself and the baby that spring.

The peace of her morning was interrupted though when she detected the telling sounds of movement coming from the hallway and leading into the living room. _What the hell,_ she asked herself silently, _Ryan is never up this early on the weekends. Hell, sometimes he's not even home yet. _Curious, she peaked her head out of the doorway and had to stifle a giggle at his expense. He looked utterly wretched, and the small, vindictive, petty side of her hoped that perhaps she had somehow managed to hurt him the night before. Not wanting him to notice her though, she quickly moved back into the safe confines of the kitchen, poured herself a glass of orange juice, and took her prenatal vitamin, eagerly waiting, even though her outward appearance looked calmed and serene, to see if he would come into the room.

He did not disappoint.

A moment later, he shuffled in, hair sticking up in every direction, clothes wrinkled and mussed, a sure sign that, if he had slept at all, it hadn't been pleasant rest, and eyes betraying his miserable nature. No matter what though, she refused to meet his face, keeping her eyes glued to her task at hand, making her breakfast, and giving off an air of indifference, as if she hadn't even noticed he was standing less than two feet away from her. When she could feel his eyes stray from her body and move back towards the fridge as he continued to rummage through it looking for something to eat or drink, she would steal covert glances at him.

"Let me guess," his sarcastic voice breaking the stillness of the room, "you're up early to get ready for a lunch date with my Dad or another gallery opening. Have to keep those rumor mills going that you're his young, pregnant lover."

"Wrong," she replied curtly just as she was measuring out the amount of oats she wanted to pour into the boiling water, "I have errands to run…."

Interrupting, Ryan asked, "what kind of errands?"

His question, his interest startled her, and, for a moment, she forgot was she was doing. Finally, shaking off her surprise, she emptied the measuring cup into the pan and turned away from him before replying. "I'm sure any errands that I would have to run would bore you. After all, not all of us live such important, newsworthy lives as you."

"Would you just answer the damn question," he exploded, shocking her again. At least his outburst got her attention though, and, for the first time that morning, she let her gaze meet his.

"I need to pick up some art supplies, stop by the grocery store for a few things, and do some research at the library for a research paper I have to write tomorrow," she responded in a whisper. Not letting his eyes drop from hers, she pushed on, "oh, and I also have my first Lamaze class today in order to get ready for the birth of MY baby. Like I said," she continued, face hard with lack of emotion, "it wouldn't interest you."

"Don't you need a partner for that….Lamaze class," Ryan questioned her. "Just when exactly were you going to tell me about it, five minutes before I needed to be there?"

"Why the hell would I want or need you there," Marissa laughed at his very idea, moving past him with her prepared bowl of oatmeal to the table. Putting it down, she moved towards the front door, Ryan right on her heals. "I will be taking the classes by myself, thank you very much. I'm a single parent who is going to give birth to MY child on my own. The only thing I needed you for was making the baby, and we did that seven months ago." Opening their door, she picked up the newspaper, went back to the kitchen, and started eating silently while she read the latest news. Pretending to be immersed in her actions, she missed the emotions playing across Ryan's countenance. If she would have been paying attention, she would have seen a brief moment of pain and hurt that not even he could hide.

The room was filled with happy, smiling couples, the men beaming with pride towards their pregnant wives and the women glowing with exultation and joy. The bustling, energetic instructor made her away around to the various groups of people, introducing herself and asking various questions about each individual pregnancy. Though Marissa, a bystander who was hiding in a corner watching everything unfold around her, could tell her interest and enthusiasm was fake and forced, everyone else was blind to the deception, too content with their own lives to perceive any emotion other than delight or have the capability to recognize insincerity.

Turning back to her utterly horrendous cup of decaf coffee, its only use to keep her hands pleasantly warm, Marissa tried to forget those around her and focus her mind on other, more entertaining ideas. She made plans for her next piece of art, arranging in her mind the various colors of paint she would use and which brushes would give her the effect she was hoping for. She thought about the treat she had picked up at the grocery store, something she would reward herself with the next afternoon after she finished her research paper: a miniature, individual piece of decadent peanut butter pie. She debated which new book she had checked out at the library she would read first. Slowly, Marissa let go of the insecurity she felt standing in a room surrounded with expecting couples, reassured in herself, her strength, and her decision to go through her pregnancy on her own.

Slyly, she pushed the disgusting cup of coffee aside, hoping that no one saw her actions, and moved away from her corner, gliding about the room and moving towards the piles of mats arranged against the far wall of the studio. Hands cradling her bulging belly, she pulled the top cushion off of the pile and positioned it in the sunniest part of the large room, wanting to have the warmth of the sun on her back and face while she completed her first class. It would serve as a reminder for her that it was a beautiful day out and that the trivial doubts she had about not asking Ryan to be by her side were just the emotional stirrings of her hormones.

Sitting down and crossing her legs, she looked around the room again, this time with fresh, interested eyes, and played a private game in her mind, attempting to guess how far along each soon-to-be mother was and picking whether or they were having a boy or a girl. True, she would probably never know the answers, but she really didn't care. She just wanted something to help pass the time while she waited for the class to begin.

All of a sudden, the door opened and a petite, timid, teenage girl entered the studio. Her eyes were wide with fright, and, as the door slipped out of her hands and slammed shut, alerting everyone else in the room that they had another member to their group, it became obvious that she was visibly shaking from nerves and embarrassment. Marissa watched as each and every person in the studio turned a disapproving eye upon the innocent girl, silently accusing her with their glares, confirming every doubt she had about herself, and making her feel as if she didn't belong and was not wanted. With tears glistening in her eyes, the young girl moved to flee, whispering an apology that was to atone for every wrong she had supposedly done to them before practically running towards the door and her escape.

"Wait," Marissa yelled, jumping up as fast as her new, curvier, pregnant body allowed her, "I'm right here. Sorry, I was lost in my own thoughts and didn't see you come in." There was no way she was going to stand by and watch someone who, undoubtedly, needed the class be pushed aside and turned away simply because the others there did not like the fact that she was going to be a single, teenage mother. "I already picked our spot for us," she continued, linking her arm through the bewildered girl's and leading her back to the mat she had just gotten up off of.

"Uh," the diminutive, doe like girl started, unsure of what to say. Looking up at Marissa, she finally asked, "do I know you from somewhere….."

Her Southern accent made Marissa giggle with delight. She found this shy, beautiful young woman to be as charming as a pixy. "No," she answered, helping her sit down on the mat before going and getting another one. Joining her on the floor, she continued, "I just couldn't stand to see them treat you like that. You have just as much right to be here as they do."

"But I don't have a partner," the girl pointed out, avoiding Marissa's eyes and playing anxiously with her fingers. "Are you even allowed to stay without a partner?"

"Of course, but that doesn't matter now. I'll be your partner. My name is Marissa."

Holding out her hand, she waited for the younger woman to reply. It took a few moments, but, finally, she grinned up at her and took the hand she had offered. "I'm Callie, and are you sure…."

"Please," Marissa pleaded, "you'd be doing me a favor actually. You see, I don't have a partner either."

"You don't have a partner," Callie asked her, the tone of her voice betraying the fact that she didn't believe Marissa's statement.

"Nope."

"But I don't understand," she began, her words fading off. "Where….why…."

Laughing, Marissa responded, "it's a long and very sordid story. And, by the looks of the glare the instructor is sending our way, if we don't want to be attacked by the angry mob, we better stop talking now. I'll tell you why I don't have a partner after class if you do the same for me."

"You've got yourself a deal," the smiling, flaxen haired, green eyed teen agreed. As the teacher gave her first instruction, Callie leaned over and whispered to Marissa, "would you like to go get something to eat after class? I swear, I'm hungry now all the time."

"Sure," Marissa agreed, "but why don't we go back to my apartment. It'll be more comfortable than a restaurant, and we'll be able to talk as loud as we want."

Exchanging one last set of giggles, the two girls stopped talking and focused on their class. Suddenly, the fact that they were alone, that everyone else disapproved of their presence, and that they had to go there twice a week didn't seem so bad.

"Wow, Callie exclaimed as she made her way into the apartment, "this place is huge. Do you live here all by yourself?"

Marissa snorted a laugh in response. "Are you kidding me? Do you really think I could afford a place like this on my salary, especially with tuition payments? This is my baby's father's place."

"But I thought you said you didn't have a partner…."

"Oh, I don't," Marissa dismissed with a wave of her hand as she led her new friend into the kitchen. "We have this arrangement. He pays for the baby and lets us live here while I make his father believe that we're in a relationship and caring for the baby together."

"Were you ever in a relationship," the younger girl asked confused.

"No, we just had a one night stand seven months ago, I got pregnant, and now, here we are."

"And he wants nothing to do with you or the baby?"

"That is one thing I can assure you of." Grabbing two coffee cups, two packets of hot chocolate, and a gallon of spring water from the fridge, Marissa proceeded to fix the two of them their sweet drinks. "He cannot stand me," she explained. "You should see us when we're around each other. If we're not screaming or fighting, then its cold shoulders and icy stares, but it works. While he gets to ensure he inherits his father's fortune, I make sure that my baby will have everything it will ever need."

"But what about your family, your friends," Callie continued to push, "surely they would want to help you through this, be a part of your baby's life?"

"The day my family decided to ship me off to boarding school when I was younger was the day we quit getting along, and things have only gotten worse since then. As for friends, well…I don't really have too many. I mean, sure, I have acquaintances and people I keep in contact with, but it wouldn't feel right to have them by my side when I have my baby. Besides," Marissa pointed out, "I think everything is working out just how it's supposed to. If I had someone to help me, then who would be your Lamaze partner?"

"Good point," the younger girl laughed, taking the cup of hot cocoa Marissa handed to her while they moved towards the living room. Sitting down on the couch together, the two girls, simultaneously without realizing it, tucking their legs under them and turned to face one another as they continued to talk. Without even thinking, Marissa reached for the television remote and turned the TV on for background noise.

"Wait a second," Callie spoke out, startling Marissa who was just about to ask her a question, "if you like cooking, why are we ordering take out food?"

"What," Marissa asked confused, "I don't like to cook."

"Then why are you watching the food network?" Ushering towards the TV, she referenced the fact that there was some semi-famous chef talking away as he described his latest recipe.

"Oh," Marissa realized, stopping to think for a moment, "I guess Ryan was watching this…." Her voice trailed off at the thought.

"And Ryan is your roommate who just so happens to be your baby's father as well?"

"Huh….oh, yeah." Silent for a moment, Marissa pondered. Finally, unable to not voice the ideas in her head, she started rambling to herself, completely forgetting that Callie was sitting right beside her. "I just….Ryan and the food network….this makes no sense."

Her guest giggled at her confusion. "Wow, you really don't know anything about him! What did you do, jump his bones within the first five minutes of meeting him?" Marissa's blush was the only answer she needed. "Oh, so it really was a one night stand! And you're living with him, with this guy you barely know? This is crazy….unless….."

"Unless what," Marissa snapped, the slight irritation she felt towards this young girl for judging her life annoying her and coming through her words.

"Unless you have feelings for him," Callie answered, staring at the older woman with wide eyes. "You do, don't know?" As she continued to talk, neither girl noticed a door opening down the hall or the man who walked silently into the room. "You're here because, no matter what, even if it doesn't make sense, you have feelings for this Ryan guy. You want him to be a part of your life!"

"Callie, that is totally and completely ridiculous. Ryan means nothing to me. He was just the unlucky guy who I picked out of the crowd one night when I was looking for a distraction, a guy to use for sex to forget my fears and concerns, the unlucky guy who either forgot to use a condom or had one break on him, the unlucky guy who knocked me up. It was completely random, and now, he's the guy who means nothing to me or MY baby, and he never will. He lives his life; I live mine. Nothing is going to change that."

No one might have seen Ryan enter the room, but Callie saw him leave; she saw the slight glimmer of hope in his eyes when he realized the two girls were talking about him disappear and become replaced with one of hurt when he heard Marissa's cold, unfeeling words, and she knew that, no matter what either Ryan or Marissa said, there was more to their story than either of them would admit to, more to the way they felt for each other than either would allow themselves to acknowledge. She might be young and naïve, but she could read emotions plainly in people's eyes. It was the first thing she looked at when she met a new person, because, for Callie, the eyes never lied. In her short, sixteen years, she had been lied to by too many people, hurt too much not to seek out those who could comfort her with just a single look. Taking in the moment and storing it in her memory, she turned back to Marissa who had been completely obvious to what had just happened behind her.

"But this is pointless," Marissa continued, "talking about Ryan. I would rather hear about you and why a sixteen year old girl with a family perfectly capable of helping her at home is about to have a baby by herself."

So, that's what they did. Callie talked and Marissa listened, occasionally offering a word of advice, a comment of outrage, or a response of approval. She told her of her old home town, about the ex-boyfriend whom she hadn't shared the fact that she was pregnant with his child yet, of the new life her parents were forcing her to accept and adapt to without any support. She told her about how her father was so disappointed in her because she was pregnant at sixteen that he wouldn't even meet her eye and how her mother was so outraged that she would embarrass her in front of society and her new friends that she refused to talk to her. She told her how Newport was nothing like Austin and that she resented her parents for moving them solely for the purpose of showing off their new found wealth. She told her about the fact that her family was too humiliated by her condition to allow her to remain in their home, so they had moved her to LA, out of sight out of mind, and paid for a small apartment for her, giving her an allowance to live on. She told her everything.

As the afternoon wore on, as the take out was slowly eaten, Callie continued to silently wondered about her new friend and the relationship she had with her baby's father, why neither of them were comfortable enough with their true feelings to share them with each other, while Marissa kept going back to the very first idea she had thought of when she had first seen Callie: that her eyes were Aubrey's eyes, and while Ryan sat lying in bed unable to forget the images that kept replaying themselves in his mind: the picture of the sonogram, Marissa standing topless as she painted her own portrait, and the sight of her as she spoke so spitefully about him. On the surface it looked like just any other Saturday, but, for the three people in that apartment, it was a day that would haunt them for months to come.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Marissa Cooper was starving, so starving in fact that as she pushed and shoved, climbed and finagled her way unto the kitchen counter where her late night snack sat awaiting her, she grimaced at the unpleasant feeling of hunger pains striking her stomach. Why she was so hungry, she had no idea. Just like every night she had eaten a well balanced dinner, but, nine months pregnant and eagerly anticipating the birth of her first child, rational bouts of hunger were something she had long since forgotten. Her stomach and its cravings dictated her life at that point; school and work did not matter for it was summer break and she was on maternity leave. So, sighing out of contentment as she finally accomplished the not so small feat of claiming her seat on top of the granite countertop, her hands shot towards the….interesting….snack she had made for herself, and she happily started eating.

With bare legs hanging languidly off the counter, she swung her feet back and forth through the air like a little kid, innocently animated for the simple pleasures of life. Because she had just crawled out of bed, she wore a simple pair of boyshorts, and a tight camisole fit snuggly to her ample, swollen breasts and bulging baby belly, her belly button popped, its outline clearly visible beneath the stretched, thin material of her top. Her hair, because of the balmy, early summer night she would argue, was adorably plaited into two matching French braids, the ends tied off with tiny pink ribbons, but the true reason behind her adolescent coif was the fact that boredom was now controlling her life.

She reached for the kiwi first; the cool, sweet, slightly tangy fruit making her moan out of pleasure as soon as its taste touched her mouth. Giggling as she felt the delectable juices sliding down her graceful chin, she ignored manners and the rules polite society dictated and wiped the sticky liquid off of her face with the back of her hands. Before her was a feast fit for a very pregnant queen, hard pretzels, left over fried zucchini from dinner, chocolate milk, pizza rolls, apple jacks, cold mashed potatoes, cherry pie filling, corn dogs, and barbeque sauce and ranch dressing for dipping anything that looked appetizing, and she intended to enjoy every morsel of it. So absorbed in her food, she never heard the door to the kitchen being pushed open by very tired, partially still sleeping, barely clothed man.

"What do you think you're doing," he yelled at her, flying across the expanse of the room, shocking her so badly, the can of pie filling she had been eating out of fell to the floor and clattered, generously spilling a large portion of its contents. "Are you trying to hurt yourself or give me a heart attack? Get off of that counter now!"

Marissa was shocked. Even though it made no sense, for she knew she was the only one in the kitchen with him, her body instinctively looked around the room for someone else. _He couldn't be talking to me….he couldn't be worried about he?_ Inanely she asked, "were you telling ME to get down off the counter?"

"No, I'm talking to the other woman in the room who is nine months pregnant with our child," he exploded sarcastically, motioning for her to climb down. "Yes, I'm talking to you. Now, are you going to just sit there looking dumb or are you going to listen?"

It was like she was in an alternative universe. Slowly, she pushed him, unsure of what to say or how to react. "Are you okay, Ryan? You didn't….I don't know, fall down and hit your head did you? Have too many martinis tonight at the club perhaps?"

"If I didn't know better," he countered, wrapping his hands around her waist and lifting her off of the counter, "I'd say you were the one who was slightly intoxicated. Whatever possessed you to climb up there in the first place, and what are you doing out of bed at 3 in the morning?" Slowly, he lowered her feet the floor, letting her body slightly caress his as he put her down. Eyes locking, he stared into her confused irises of deep, enchanting sapphire, smiling when he caught a glimmer of hope shining through, but still she wouldn't respond. "I know you've become really good at this whole silent treatment form of punishment you've been using against me for the past five months, but would you please, if only for one night, talk to me."

"I was hungry," she explained, blushing and shrugging her shoulders sheepishly. Still his hands remained firmly clasped on her hips. "I don't know what happened, but suddenly I shot up out of bed, in the middle of a deep sleep, and felt as if I hadn't eaten in a month. And as for sitting on the counter….it looked…fun." Slowly, a grin took possession of her shimmering face, and Ryan couldn't help but laugh at how charming and cute she was.

"Well, I don't care how hungry you were or how fun sitting on the counter looked, you cannot do things like this." Gently, he explained, "a fall, even if it's only a few feet could cause you to suddenly go into labor, and we don't want that."

"We don't! Listen here, buddy," Marissa argued with him, the force of her words and the seriousness of her face almost comical in nature, "WE want this baby out of me as soon as possible. Don't get me wrong, being pregnant was amazing, but I can't sleep, I can't sit still or sit comfortably, I can't stop eating, and I can't go five minutes without going pee. If falling off this counter will induce labor, hand me a step stool."

"Now you see," his tone dropped to a low, husky octave, "this may actually be something I can help you out with." Sliding his body around hers, Marissa suddenly found herself in his arms, her back leaning into his strong chest and torso as his hands seductively trailed their way over her body, lightly teasing and taunting every imaginable particle of skin. Finally, he settled his face in the crook of her shoulder, letting his lips brush against her neck whenever he wished, and his hands underneath the light shirt she wore as they delicately traced over the taunt abdomen that protectively carried their child. "You know what they say," he said between kisses, his hot breath against her ear creating a wave of heat pulsating through her blood from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hairline, "sex is supposed to induce labor, and we both know that if there was anything we do well together, it's sex."

His words were seducing her, his hands were tantalizing her, his lips were mesmerizing her, but, there was one sensation his actions were creating in her body that was stronger than anything else, and, no matter what she did, Marissa could not deny it any longer.

Pulling out of his arms, she ran from the room as quickly as the baby and her pregnancy weight would allow, shouting back over her shoulder a brief apology and explanation. "I'm sorry, but I really have to go to the bathroom!"

Sitting up suddenly in bed, Marissa realized that although she was not in the kitchen with Ryan, she was wet. It wasn't because she hadn't made it to the bathroom in time like in her dream, but because her water had broke. Perhaps it was because of the fantasy she had just had, a fantasy where Ryan had been sweet and kind, showing that he cared for both her and the baby, yet again, it could have been merely the fact that she was scared, a first time mother in labor, but, no matter what the reason, without even thinking, Marissa moved as quickly as she could out of her room and down the hall towards Ryan's. Without a second's consideration, she pushed his door open, her customary courtesy of knocking forgotten, talking softly, so as not to wake him, before she had even entered the room.

"Ryan," she whispered, timidly walking in the general direction she knew his bed was located. His room was pitch black; not even a beam of moonlight shine through the windows. When she received no answer, she spoke again, this time making sure her voice was just slightly louder than the gentle strains of music escaping his elaborate sound system. "Ryan, are you awake?"

"Unnhh," was the only response she received. Despite the fact that she was soaking wet and could feel a contraction coming on, Marissa couldn't help but giggle at him as he moaned groggily in his sleep. No matter how amusing it was to catch him so off guard, the searing pain that shot through her back and wrapped around to the front of her abdomen made Marissa push on.

Stopping to breathe deeply, she went to speak again when an all together different noise made her freeze in shock, embarrassment, and sorrow. "Oooohhhhh yeah, right….there," a decidedly feminine voice, a voice that was definitely not Ryan's, whimpered out in ecstasy. Turning around, Marissa ran out of the room not even bothering to shut the door behind her, for stopping long enough to pull the handle shut would have pushed her over the edge.

_Stupid sentimental fool,_ she berated herself harshly, her tone taunting and cruel. _I thought you weren't going to let your hormones effect your emotions any longer. Wanting Ryan to take you to the hospital, what were you thinking?! _

Quickly, she started organizing her things, changing her clothes as she called for a cab. Once she was dressed in a clean, dry pair of shorts and a t-shirt, her taxi on its way, she set to packing a bag to take with her, making sure to include a simple, comfortable outfit for both she and the baby to come home in. She included toiletries and various baby supplies wanting to be prepared for anything and everything that could happen. With one last glance around the room, she made a last minute decision and crossed to her beside table, picking up the sonogram picture, and packing it in her bag as well. Since the day it had been taken, she had never spent a night away from the picture, and, in that moment, she needed the comfort it had always provided her with.

Quietly, so as not to disturb Ryan and his… diversion, she carried her bag to the front door before returning to her room. Gathering the blankets and sheets off of her bed, she loaded them in the washer, hoping that maybe, just on a whim, Ryan would decide to do a load of laundry while she was gone and be forced to dry them for her. She knew that by the time she returned to the apartment, her baby in her arms, she would be too sore and exhausted to want to do laundry.

As she went to leave, she stopped herself from shutting her bedroom door. Granted, it was their habit to close off their rooms when they were not in the apartment, but a small, curious, perhaps even masochistic part of Marissa wanted to see if Ryan would even realize she was gone. Surely, if he took the time to look in her room he would know that something was wrong, because her bed was unmade. It had been ten minutes since she had called the cab, so it would be there soon, and eleven minutes since her last contraction. Leaving the apartment, bag in hand, she made her way towards the elevators only to have to stop and hold the wall for support when another sharp, intense pain shot through her body. _Another contraction_, she told herself, entering the elevator. Knowing it was time, she opened her cell once again, dialing an all too familiar number. It took several rings for the person to answer.

"Is it time," the anxious, surprisingly wide awake voice asked.

Answering her, Marissa shared, "yes. My water broke about fifteen minutes ago, and my contractions are approximately twelve minutes apart. I've called a cab, my bags are packed, and I'm on the way to the hospital."

"I'll meet you there."

"Thanks, and Callie," she stopped to nervously bite down on her bottom lip, refusing to let the tears gathering in her eyes to fall, "can you hurry? I don't want to do this alone….I'm scared."

"Miss Cooper," a nurse greeted Marissa as soon as she walked into the hospital, motioning for an orderly to push a wheelchair over to them as quickly as possible. "Because you called ahead of time, your private room has been prepared for you, so I'll show you up there myself."

"But I didn't ask for a private room."

"We thought it better, dear," the middle aged woman whose nametag read Margaret advised. "We didn't want this place to turn into a three ring circus with the press nor do you need the added stress of a stranger harassing you about your personal life. Now, if you don't have any other questions, is it alright if we proceed to your room?"

"Actually," Marissa responded, twisting around in her chair to look for a sign of Callie, "I'd rather wait for my partner to get here."

"Is that what they call them these days," the nurse winked at her. Marissa was confused but was in too much pain and already too exhausted to worry about word games. "Is there a number I could call for you to reach them," Margaret started to ask only to be interrupted by a high pitched, excited voice calling for Marissa.

"I'm here, I'm here," Callie called off as she rushed to Marissa's side. "Who the hell ever heard of traffic at 1:00 in the morning? This town is ridiculous! Oh, what I wouldn't give for a nice, empty Texas sized street right about now." Continuing in a rush, she kept talking, her constant chatter making Marissa smile and annoying the nurse. "How are you doing, hun? Are the contractions still quite a bit apart? Wait, what are you doing down here? Why aren't you in your room yet?"

"She would be in a room, Miss," Margaret interrupted Callie's rambling. "If someone would stop talking and leave Miss Cooper alone, then I would be able to take her to her room. Now, if you'll excuse us, this is a hospital where serious business is conducted. We do not have time for your starry eyed, celebrity chasing type here." With that, she pushed herself between Callie and Marissa's wheelchair, moving her patient along until Marissa stubbornly put her feet down and stopped their movement.

"First of all," she decreed, "there is no celebrity here. I'm just a pregnant graduate student, and this," she said pointing to the scowling, irritated, 7 months pregnant, hormonal teenage girl behind her, "this is my partner, my Lamaze partner. She will be the only person at my side while I give birth, and I expect you to treat her with respect. Now, if you're finished insulting my friend, I'd really like to have my baby in a hospital room and not in a lobby."

To Marissa's delight, the nurse was absolutely silent the rest of the way to her room.

The hours passed, the agony of her contractions grew while the time between each pain diminished, signaling that, slowly but surely, her labor was progressing. No matter what, no matter how tired she was or how sore her back was, Callie was at Marissa's side the entire time, soothing her when she was afraid and distracting her when she was hurting. She paced the halls with her, helped her sit up in bed when she asked, and continually brought her fresh ice chips, anything that she could do to alleviate some of her discomfort and offer her a sense of calm.

As the first rays of light spread across the horizon, illuminating Marissa's hospital room with beautiful, natural light, she realized that the night had passed and she was still in labor. The last time the doctor had checked her progress, she had been dilated eight centimeters, but it seemed as if the last two were taking forever. She was exhausted, mentally and physically, her body not only working harder than it ever had before but she was also only functioning on a few hours of sleep. However, emotionally she was just ready to meet her baby, her son or her daughter, to hold them in her arms and know once and for all that they were safe, healthy, and hers to love and cherish.

Grimacing and muttering undistinguishable curses under her breath, Marissa prepared herself as yet another contraction took hold of her body and eradicated any previous thoughts she may have been having. Sensing her frustration, Callie spoke up.

"You should consider yourself lucky! If you think a few hours of labor is bad, you should try almost two full days. That's how long my Mama was in labor with me." When Marissa's jaw dropped in utter shock, her face visibly blanching at the idea of 48 hours of labor, Callie just chuckled and continued talking to her. "What you're going through is a piece of cake. Why, just you wait until I push out this little man," she affectionately said as she rubbed soothing circles into her own swollen abdomen, "we're going to be here for hours."

"You didn't tell me you found out the baby's sex," Marissa panted out in between breaths. "I thought you said you weren't going to?"

"Don't need to, because I already know. In my family, there are three things you can always depend upon when a woman is pregnant. Number one, her labor is going to be long, painful, and complicated; that's why every generation only has one kid. Secondly, the baby will be big. I might be short and petite now, but, when I was born, I was the chubbiest baby you ever saw, almost eleven pounds, and, if you look at how big I already am, my baby is going to be the same way. Finally, if it looks like you swallowed an oversized basketball, carrying all your pregnancy weight in the front, that means you're having a boy in my family."

After a moment, Marissa finally responded. "How the hell are you going to push out an eleven pound baby?!"

"That's why it takes two days," Callie giggled, surprising Marissa that she could even laugh about so many hours of sheer misery. As another contraction took control of Marissa's body, her Lamaze partner kept talking, sensing that somehow the stories of women with longer, harder labors took the edge off of Marissa's suffering. So, for the next hour and half, they passed the time by relatively peacefully, Callie sharing pregnancy stories of her family's past and Marissa focusing upon how thankful she was her body was capable of handling labor much easier than some women and that her baby was being relatively cooperating, and, before either of them knew it, the doctors and nurses had been called in, and Marissa was finally pushing.

At just after 8:15 in the morning that picturesque June day, Marissa gave birth to her daughter.

"I know you're tired and you want to rest," a younger, less experienced nurse whom Marissa was too tired to read her name tag sympathized, "but I have to fill out your baby's paperwork before you go to sleep." Marissa was in bed, her eyes already having fallen closed as she was barely remaining awake, the baby had been taken by a different nurse to be bathed and cared for in the nursery, and Callie had mysteriously disappeared several minutes before without saying a word to anyone as to where she was going. Pressing on with her questions, the young nurse asked, "can I have your full name, please?"

"Marissa Juliette Cooper, and father's name," she began knowing that it would be the next question, but she was interrupted.

"Oh, I already know that," the nurse replied confidently. "I read all the magazines, so I know all about your life." Marissa smirked at the comment. "The father's name is James Ryan Atwood, the thi…."

"The fourth," she corrected before the medical practitioner could even finish. She was unable to help herself from peeking open just one eye to see the nurse's expression. It did not disappoint. She stood there, unblinking, gaze fixed on Marissa as if she didn't believe her words, her jaw hanging open in shock. Wanting to push her over the edge, Marissa continued. "And MY baby's name is Aubrey Selene Cooper."

"But….you….and he….what about Atwood?"

"Her last name is Cooper," Marissa repeated slowly, pausing and raising her voice when she said the surname again.

"Right, yes, of course," the perplexed and slightly uncomfortable nurse agreed, tucking her paper work under her arm as if she was about to leave, but, instead of moving, she remained frozen in her spot. With one last, long look at Marissa she finally turned to leave, a wide, conspiring, impressed smirk illuminating her cheerful face.

As the door to her room floated shut, Marissa burrowed down into her bed under the thin, slightly scratchy sheet, but, to her weary body, it felt like heaven. Her eyes fell shut just as a small, content smile graced her full, delicate lips. For the first time in her life Marissa knew what it felt like to love someone unconditionally, and the only thing that made that knowledge even sweeter was the fact that she knew her breathtakingly beautiful, utterly perfect daughter would return those life-altering feelings.

He knew he had to be there, he knew that if he was honest with himself he would have to admit that he was curious, but what he didn't know was what the hell he was supposed to do there. Just inside the plain, industrial door before him lay the woman he had spent one night with nine months before, the woman who had carried a child he had helped make, the woman who had given birth to her baby just hours before. _Should I go in and attempt to have a conversation with her, or is it better to wait until she asks for me_…._if she ever does_, he silently pondered to himself. _Hell, I wouldn't even know she was in the hospital if that pregnant girl she's friends with hadn't of called me. _

After finishing with the girl he had brought home the night before, a girl whose name, at that moment, he couldn't even remember, he had fallen into a deep sleep only rousing when his body collided into that of the sleeping woman's beside him. Waking her up, he insisted that she leave, that he didn't allow his one night stands to stay over, practically pushing her out the door as he walked her down the hallway and towards the entrance. He hadn't even looked towards Marissa's room, so he had never noticed her door ajar, but, even if he had, he would never have gone near it, because, the last time he had approached her room when it was left open, he had been haunted by the vision of the framed sonogram for days.

"Are you going to go in or are you auditioning for a job as a bodyguard?"

The frustrated, sarcastic voice broke through Ryan's silent thoughts and brought him back to the reality of the situation. Turning around he came face to face with the same girl who had called him that morning to inform him that Marissa had gone into labor the night before and had given birth earlier. By the expression on her face, she obviously expected an answer, but, at that point, he didn't know what to do, so he merely said something that sounded good, something he assumed he was supposed to say in their situation.

"How is she doing?"

Feigning confusion, Callie asked, "who?"

"You know who I'm talking about," Ryan argued with the sanctimonious teenage girl in front of him. _Where does she get off_, he asked himself before returning to their conversation. "Her," he said, hooking his thumb over his shoulder towards the room door behind them. "Who else would I be talking about?"

"Well, I don't know. It could be Marissa or YOUR daughter." When he didn't say anything, she kept pushing. "You did know that she had a girl right; I mean, you did care enough to ask someone for some information, didn't you?" They both knew he hadn't, but that was Callie's point. She wanted to show him how ridiculous, how wrong his behavior was.

"You know what," he spat, shoving his way past her, "I don't have to put up with this. I'm going to call my Dad."

"Of course you are, because you have to protect your inheritance." Ryan whirled around to face Callie, the dazed expression on his face betraying the fact that he had not expected her to know of his agreement with Marissa. His reaction brought a rather smug smile to her face. "Oh yes, I know all about your little deal, but I have one question for you. What are you going to tell your poor, deceived father when he starts asking you questions about the birth, about Marissa, about the baby? For instance, when did she go into labor? At what time was the baby born? What's the baby's name? How much does she weight? How is Marissa feeling?"

"Then tell me what I need to know."

"No."

"Excuse me," Ryan asked irked. "What did you just say to me?"

"If you want me to help you out, you're going to have to do something for me first." He just stood there, hands irately placed on his hips, staring at her. "I want you to go in that hospital room. I want you to look at the woman who just gave birth to the child you created together, the child that is a part of both of you, and I want you to watch her hold YOUR baby in her arms as she love and cares for her."

"And what purpose is this going to serve except for my wasting time?"

"For my own reasons," Callie explained, "I need to see you do this. I need to witness the play of emotions on your face when you see Marissa and Aubrey together for the first time."

Giving in, Ryan shook his head in disbelief that he was actually going to do what the demanding girl wanted, ushering for her to walk in first. Just as her hand grazed against the door, he yelled out, his words and worried tone making her pause and turn back around to face him. "I've heard that name before; I've heard Marissa say that name before. Why is it important?"

"It's the name of her dead best friend," Callie replied softly, "and if you knew anything about her, her life, or her past, then you would have already known that." Shaking her head in disgust, she pushed the door open and walked into the dim room, the blinds drawn on the outside world to block out the bright rays of the summer sun. Mother and child needed to rest in peace. Not wanting to interfere with the moment, she silently moved to a corner where she could observe and contemplate the truth of Ryan's feelings as they played across his countenance.

He followed her, stopping just inside of the door. Before him, together on the bed, slept a peaceful Marissa and a tiny, innocent little girl wrapped up in a soft, pink blanket, her body carefully curled into her mother's chest. Nothing could detract from the beauty of the sight before him; Ryan could not see the dark circles of exhaustion ringing Marissa's eyes, the tangled knots of her long, blonde hair framing her face, or the excess baby weight it would take her some time to lose. The sight of them together took his breath away, literally. Standing in that room he found he was incapable of inhaling any fresh air into his burning, oxygen deprived lungs. Nothing had ever seemed so right, so perfect and yet so scary at the same time. If he didn't get out of that room, he would lose himself in the two slumbering angels in front of him, and that was something he was absolutely terrified of, for, once he gave that part of himself away, his heart, it was no longer his to protect but someone else's to shatter into a million unrecognizable, unfixable pieces.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, "but I can't be here. Don't tell me anything, don't help me with my father, I don't care." With that, Ryan ran out of the room gulping for air, his body slumping against the wall unable to support itself for a moment longer. Satisfied with what she saw, Callie followed him.

"Marissa went into labor last night," she explained joining him in the hallway, "waking up when her water broke. At 8:21 this morning, she gave birth to your daughter, Aubrey Selene Cooper who weighed six pounds, four ounces and is 20 ½ inches long. Mother and baby are doing wonderfully, both tired yet healthy and strong. They'll be released to go home tomorrow morning. And, just so you know" she continued gently, her voice confident yet kind, "you can't run away from how you feel forever, and, eventually, you won't be able to ignore it as easily either. You can deny it all you want, but I saw the truth on your face the moment your eyes fell on the mother of your child and your daughter, and that look told me that you're in love with Marissa and want to be a part of your baby's life. And," she pushed, "she might deny it just as vehemently as you would, "but she loves you as well and wants you to be a part of both of their lives. Her eyes shine with the truth every time she sees you."

Ryan simply nodded his head towards the young girl, his way of thanking her for telling him the important information he needed before making his way towards the elevators to go outside and call his father. Unfortunately, he didn't believe a word Callie had said about Marissa's feelings for him.

"This isn't really my forte," James chuckled as he adoringly gazed down at Marissa. "When it comes time for her to want a car, I know my automobiles, just as I could buy her a jet or a yacht or a prime piece of real estate, but to go shopping for toys let alone clothes for a baby girl, talk about being left with the greatest sense of bewilderment. Whatever you don't want or like," he said as his eyes scanned across the dozens of bags and boxes of gifts filling the private hospital room, "just give it away."

It was later that day, Marissa had just eaten her dinner and fed Aubrey, once again, right before her guest had arrived, so they sat there, each person in the room slightly uncomfortable with the situation. Callie felt out of place as if she didn't belong there with the small, very untraditional family, but she knew that Marissa wanted her there, so she remained, occasionally letting her sleepy eyes droop shut. James could sense that something was not right with his son, that he was unnerved being in that room. Ryan was only too aware of how close he was physically to Marissa as he stood at her side as any proud father should, attempting to continue the charade they had been performing for seven months. Marissa just wanted to rest. Not only was she still drowsy from labor, but she was sick and tired of pretending to feel one way when, in fact, she felt the completely opposite.

"I'm sure Aubrey will love everything her proud grandpa bought her," Marissa replied kindly, offering the older gentleman a kind, small smile.

"But right now," Callie decided to intervene, standing up and moving towards the door, "I think its time for those of use that don't belong in this room to leave."

"You're absolutely right," James agreed with her, offering Callie his arm. "We need to let these new parents spend some quality time with their daughter." She had meant that James should take Ryan with him while she would stay behind to be with Marissa, but, obviously, he hadn't picked up on the meaning to her words. Sighing, she consented, giving the older gentleman her arm so that he could help her outside, unable to think of a plausible idea as to why she should stay behind. With one last glance at Marissa while the door closed behind her, Callie could help but hope that neither Ryan nor Marissa would hurt each other too badly while they were alone together.

After a few moments of silence, Marissa spoke up. "You really don't have to stay here. As soon as you think the coast is clear of your father, feel free to leave whenever you want."

"But," Ryan argued, "what about…"

"I've taken care of Aubrey by myself since the day I found out I was expecting her. Go, go out dancing at some club, pick up another one of your one night stands, or just go back to the apartment and relax. Whatever you do though, you….leave us alone? I don't need you here."

"Okay," he agreed, chuckling softly, "I have to admit that works for me, too. Being here, it's…."

"Awkward," Marissa finished for him, sharing in his laugh.

"But I'll take all these bags back for you. You won't want to carry them back to the apartment tomorrow morning."

"Thanks, Ryan."

Nodding his head, he acknowledged her appreciation, hesitating just a moment when their gazes locked together briefly before picking up the bags and boxes and making his way towards the door. Although he opened it to leave, he let it shut once again, turning back around to face Marissa. "I just wanted to tell you that you did a good job…with her. You have a beautiful daughter, and you're going to be a good mom."

Just as he had, she nodded her head to show him she appreciated his words, and he went on his way, that time leaving when he opened the door. It wasn't much, but Ryan and Marissa both realized they had taken the first steps to becoming friends, and, in that moment, it was enough.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

_How the hell am I supposed to get a moment's peace if all that baby does is scream and cry?_ Sitting in the living room on a Saturday morning a few weeks after the baby was born, Ryan attempted to relax and enjoy some blissfully mind numbing television, but the sounds of Aubrey's cries, Marissa's pleadings for her to stop crying, and their constant movement as they paced back and forth up and down their room was slowly driving Ryan insane. He had just had a long week at work. Just when he thought he would be able to escape the constant reminders that Marissa had given birth to a little girl, that his former distractions no longer kept his mind from wandering into dangerous territory by going to the office, his dad would come in practically every hour with a new question about Marissa or the baby, about a gift idea he had for them, or about a piece of real estate Ryan should look at into his expanding family. _Expanding, that's a laughable thought_, Ryan chuckled to himself as he brought a pillow up to his mouth to muffle his screams of annoyance. _It will be a cold day in hell before I will father another child, willingly or otherwise, and, as for the term family, well my current situation with Marissa is about the farthest thing away from a family as you can get._

The day she had returned from the hospital he had made sure he was nowhere in sight. It was safer that way. Being near them, seeing mother and daughter interact, it made everything too real. So, like a coward, he had spent the day away from the apartment, lunching at the country club his father insisted they be members of, playing a round of golf, and then, when cigars, brandies, and birdies were not distracting enough, he took his bike up to a obscure skating park and rode for hours trying to leave reality behind and live in a world where nothing could touch him, nothing could reach his heart. It had worked….until he had to eventually go home.

The very first night he spent in the apartment with Marissa and the baby taught him that he would need to do something every evening to distract his mind. Hence, the weeks following Aubrey's birth had seen a long procession of unattached, easy women moving in and out of the front door of the apartment. Blonde, brunette, and auburn haired, tall or short, blue, green, and brown eyed, they were all nameless and completely ineffective. No matter what, there was only one woman Ryan found himself wanting, craving, needing, and that fact frustrated him to no end.

"Jesus Christ, Marissa," he screamed, tossing aside the pillow he had been holding in his hands to fight off some of his aggression as he stalked his way down the hallway towards the bedroom door that, once opened, he knew would reveal a miserable, exhausted mother and her wailing child. Pushing it open roughly, the door bouncing against the wall behind it as it slammed against the solid structure, he entered to find a sight he knew would be hard to forget. Marissa stood there, dressed simply in a pair of shorts and a tank top, hair tossed up in a messy bun, the humid summer morning warming her tired body, tears of uncertainty and fear cascading down her pale face as she cradled her crying child in her arms, willing her with love and tenderness to stop fussing. "Can you not," Ryan exploded, shocking her for she had been so distracted by her daughter she had not heard his hostile words from before, "get your baby to shut up for five fucking minutes?!"

"I'm sorry," Marissa apologized hastily, "but she's not…."

"I don't care." When she went to protest, he held up his hands to stop her from saying another word. "I do not care what your excuse is. I work five days a week, I pay for this apartment and anything that concerns your baby, and this is what I have to deal with?! Is it too much for a guy to ask for to have one peaceful, Saturday afternoon to relax?"

Snapping, Marissa fired back, "Oh, from the rate of whores you parade in and out of your room, I think you're quite adept at relaxing no matter how upset or sick my baby is!"

"What I do with my personal life is none of your business," Ryan countered, moving back towards the open doorway. "And don't pull a sanctimonious act on me now. Less than a year ago, you were one of those whores I fucked to relax. You're no better than they are! Now, if you would be so kind, pack a bag for your brat, change your clothes, and leave me the hell alone for one afternoon."

"Where the hell do you want us to go?"

"I don't know, and I don't care," he retorted. Sarcastically, he turned back to face Marissa, his suggestions meant to annoy her. "Why don't you go and spend a day in a museum. I remember how much you like doing that. Or yet, even better, why don't you go and visit your all-knowing, self-righteous Lamaze partner. If you wanted her with you when you gave birth, why don't you let her enjoy the hell you call a daughter that you make me live with everyday!"

"Callie is eight months pregnant; she does not need a crying baby stressing her out. As for your other suggestion," Marissa continued holding an accusatory finger towards Ryan, "you know very well I can't go there with a sick baby. But don't worry; my daughter and I will figure out somewhere to go, and we won't bother you for the rest of the day. Now, if you would kindly get the hell out of my room, as you pointed out so rudely, I need to change." With that, she slammed the door in his face, turned back around towards her dresser, and smiled down at Aubrey as she abruptly stopped crying, perhaps sensing that her Mom deserved a moment of silent victory.

Five minutes later, Ryan was left alone in the large, hollow, empty, silent apartment, and, suddenly, the very thing he had craved was his own personal torture. Without the baby crying the entire time, there was nothing left to dull his thoughts, and images of Marissa, both while she was still pregnant and afterwards holding her daughter, began to taunt him. Stubborn though, Ryan flipped on the television to the food network, adjusting the volume so it was loud enough to hear in the kitchen where he went to make himself a very difficult, very decadent lunch in hope he could escape his own mind by focusing it on a consuming task.

Two hours later, the meal was complete, Ryan was full, and he was no further along forgetting Marissa than he had been before he had made a disastrous mess of the kitchen. Leaving the mess for he knew cleaning would not help matters, he moved towards his bedroom, turning off the TV as he walked past, only to switch on his stereo and adjust the volume so that angry, hard-core, heavy metal rock was pouring through the speakers assaulting his senses. Lying down in the bed, the music worked to eradicate the thoughts of his tempting roommate but did nothing to stop the visions. Sighing and giving up, Ryan went to sleep hoping he could escape the bewitching blonde he lived with in his dreams. He should have known better.

By the time he woke up, it was dusk. Turning off the loud music that was continuing to pound throughout the apartment, he didn't even have to look to see if Marissa and Aubrey were home yet; he could sense that they weren't. The space around him was cold, uninviting, hauntingly lonely. Only the presence of the woman he could not forget, the woman who reminded him so much of the only person he had ever loved with his whole heart, and the child they had conceived together during a night of mind blowing passion could fill the apartment at that point, and, as much as Ryan wanted to claim he couldn't stand to be there when they were home, the truth was, it was even worse when they were gone.

Throwing off the thin sheet that had been covering his body, Ryan moved towards the bathroom to shower and get ready to go out. If he couldn't stop his mind from being engaged with thoughts of Marissa and her daughter, he could, at least, engage other, more pleasurable parts of his body in an attempt to find some peace. Too bad he already knew it would be easier said than done.

When Marissa got back to the apartment, it was dark. They had spent the afternoon in a hidden, relatively private part of a public park, Marissa attempting to relax and comfort Aubrey while the little girl just cried continually. Walking through the front door, Marissa just wanted to cry herself as she listened to her daughter's constant whimpers and sobs. It seemed as if there was nothing she could do to soothe her or prevent her tiny tears from slipping down the cheeks that were slightly less chubby, slightly less rosy than they had been when she was born. Knowing that she needed to feed her daughter, Marissa moved into the kitchen to prepare her own meal and was confronted with the catastrophe Ryan had left. Sighing and visibly having to push back the tears that threatened to pool out of her eyes, she grabbed a left over box of take out from the fridge, a fork, a bottle of water, and made her way into the living room to breast feed.

She attempted to eat for it was important she kept her strength up, but she had no appetite. Putting the food down, she pulled off her shirt and opened her bra so Aubrey could attach herself to her exposed breast to feed. She would eat until she couldn't eat any longer, starving for nourishment, sleep for about an hour as she felt content and full, but then wake up sick and throwing up, miserable once again. It was a continual cycle, a pattern of events that left Marissa frightened and utterly confused as to what to do. Her doctor told her to try formula. Not only had Aubrey not liked it as well, but it still had made her sick. He had told her to burp her more often, to feed her in different positions, but nothing worked. Finally, he had dismissed Marissa's concerns, claiming it was natural for babies to spit up after they ate and that nothing was wrong. It did not matter how much Marissa argued that what Aubrey did was not spitting up, that it was, instead, forceful vomit, the doctor would not listen, so mother and daughter continued to press on, hoping that something would work, that something would quiet Aubrey's irritable stomach, that something would soothe Marissa's shattered nerves.

So, that's what they did. Marissa, forgetting about her own dinner, fed her daughter, taking a deep, well needed breath and relaxing for the few, precious moments of contentment she could share with her daughter as she fed her. Aubrey's cries stopped completely, her big, bright blue, exhausted eyes would flutter shut, the play of her delicate lashes mesmerizing Marissa, as her full stomach would allow her to rest. As soon as Aubrey quit nursing, Marissa would move her to her bassinet, hoping that perhaps that night would be the one she would finally sleep for more than an hour at a time. Taking the bassinet with her into the kitchen so she could clean, a mindless, repetitive chore that would keep her awake to watch Aubrey but not continue to fatigue her tired mind, Marissa was startled for a moment when she heard the apartment door open, but the alarm did not last long as she heard a high pitched giggle, heals clicking against the wooden floors, and Ryan's deep, stern voice ordering the other person to be quiet. Soon after, the sound of his bedroom door could be heard slamming throughout the apartment, and Marissa cringed knowing the loud noise would surely wake up her still slumbering daughter. It was merely seconds later when he fears were actualized.

Picking up a screaming Aubrey, she cradled her protectively against her own warm body, hoping for and begging her to stop fussing as she wheeled the basinet back into the living room. Ryan had been furious earlier when she had been crying; she had no idea how he would react when he had company over. Nothing worked. She tried talking to the baby girl, singing to her, turning on the television to a cartoon hoping the innocent chatter would soothe her, rocking her, but she knew what was coming next was inevitable. It happened every time she fed her, and, just like clockwork, just like every single feeding since Aubrey was born, the sick, miserable little girl threw up forcefully all over both herself and her mother.

As soon as she threw up, she started crying again, hungry and discontent, stinking of sour milk, and uncomfortable due to her wet clothes. Shifting her daughter in her arms, Marissa first took off her own milk covered shirt before undressing Aubrey. Dumping the soiled clothes in a laundry basket by the washer, she proceeded to take her into the bathroom to bathe and redress her quickly. Knowing Aubrey would only cry harder if she put her down, Marissa merely gave herself a quick sponge bath hoping to clean the scent of spoiled milk off of her body to the best of her ability before quickly changing into her pajamas and starting her nightly ritual of pacing the apartment, up and down the hallway, back and forth across the living room, the movement meant to keep her awake and help calm down her baby who was sick and whom Marissa had no idea how to help.

They were in the living room, Aubrey wailing and moaning in Marissa's arms, while Marissa did everything she could not to break down with her. Both were dressed in light pajamas, the little girl's soft, purple linen capris with a button up shirt and Marissa's a light, short, white, cotton nightgown. Laughing ruefully, Marissa couldn't help but realize that, visually, she and her daughter would make a charming sight, but upon closer inspection and turning on of the volume, it would become apparent how miserable they both were.

Snapping her out of her thoughts, she heard the door to Ryan's room open abruptly and knew the inevitable confrontation that was about to occur would ultimately end badly. "Wait," she heard Ryan order from behind but refused to turn around to see what was happening. "Would you please just stop, come back to the room, and ignore them. They're not hurting you….." Marissa couldn't help but giggle softly to herself when she realized Ryan had no idea what to call the woman he was apparently sleeping with that night.

Turning around, she saw Ryan standing in front of her in a pair of jeans confronting an only partial clothed, exotically beautiful woman. "Not hurting me," the stranger repeated his words, "not hurting me! You've got to be fucking joking. I'm getting a fucking migraine, and there's no way I'm going to be able to appreciate my orgasm when this racket is going on around me." Flashing her angry glare onto Marissa, the tall, raven haired woman continued. "I don't care who you are, but they should have never allowed you to have a baby, you stupid slut!"

Before Ryan could say anything, Marissa countered, "isn't that rich? The whore in nothing but her black, fuck me lingerie is accusing me of being a slut!"

"Marissa, please," Ryan begged her. She could tell he did not want a scene, that he just wanted to go back to his room, get off, and send the nameless woman in front of them away never to be seen or heard of again. Turning back to his one night stand, he pressed, "come on. I'll just turn up the music, and we'll drown out the cries."

Apparently, nothing would appease the woman though other than getting rid of Marissa and the baby that was annoying her. "No," she argued, taking a step towards Marissa and grabbing her wrist to pull her towards the entryway. "I want you to take your screaming brat and get her out of my fucking sight," she ordered.

Her grip on Marissa's wrist hurt, and she knew that the callous, hard woman would leave bruises on the delicate skin, but before she could pull away or move away from her menacing frame, Ryan's voice exploded over the apartment, not only shocking Marissa but frightening the angry one night stand and silencing Aubrey's cries to scared whimpers.

"Get your hands off of her right now!" When both she and the other woman just looked at him in shock, Marissa saw Ryan move towards the half dressed one night stand he had been ready to sleep with, grab the stranger's hand to release her wrist, and drag the woman towards the front door. "You do not get to speak to her like that. Get out and stay the hell away from me and this apartment!" Tossing her outside of the door, Marissa watched him as he shut it quickly before stomping back to his room to get the dismissed woman's things. Throwing them out of the door towards the hunched over form in the hallway, he merely let the wooden structure slip out of his hands and close easily before taking a deep breath and turning around to face her….the woman he had just defended and chose to protect instead of getting his usual escape in the form of a one night stand.

She wanted to ask him why, to question what made this situation, this callous, rude assault against her any different than the remarks Gigi had made towards her or the ones he himself had uttered, but, looking into his eyes, his aqua irises full of fear and uncertainty, she couldn't push him. Watching him move hesitantly towards her, Marissa realized that he was afraid of her. Although she had no idea what motivated that panic, she could appreciate it for she had felt it herself and decided to respect his privacy. So, instead of starting a conversation, she merely offered him a small, shy smile, cradled Aubrey against her chest even tighter, and slipped out of the room. His simple, slight nod acknowledged her silent thanks, and, with that, they both went their separate ways, Marissa with her daughter in her arms to her room to attempt to get her to sleep, and Ryan towards the kitchen where he would be shocked to see Marissa had cleaned it up for him.

Much later that night, Ryan couldn't sleep. He could hear Marissa pacing her room with a crying Aubrey in her arms just as she did every night, and, as he rested in bed, wide awake, he could not stop thinking about the fact that she had cleaned up his mess in the kitchen despite the way he had treated her that morning. Because he never considered the fact that cleaning was as distracting to Marissa as cooking was to him, Ryan never realized that her actions had not been selfless. So getting up and putting a pair of sweatpants on and a t-shirt, he opened his bedroom door and moved down the hallway to Marissa's room. _If she can do something nice for me, I can do something nice for her. It doesn't mean anything_, he reasoned with himself. _I'm just simply trying to get along with my roommate, make our living arrangement slightly less awkward and uncomfortable._

Unlike the last time he approached her door, Ryan knocked this time. It took only a moment for Marissa to answer the door.

"I know it's late and that she's keeping you up," Marissa apologized as soon as she laid eyes on Ryan, "but I honestly have no idea what to do. The doctors keep telling me nothing's wrong, but she's never happy, never comfortable, and she gets sick every time she eats. I'd leave," she offered, "but it's late at night, and I have no place to go and I can't afford a hotel room for the night. If you want, I'll run out and get you some ear plugs so you can sleep…"

Her words died off as she had no idea what else to offer and finally noticed that Ryan did not look angry or even annoyed with her or the baby. As she looked at him bewildered by his reaction and presence in front of her, Ryan couldn't help but chuckle. "Give me the baby," he ordered her gently, reaching out his arms for the upset little girl. When Marissa was hesitant to listen to him, he continued. "I promise I won't hurt her. I'll watch her head, make sure not to drop her, and I'll keep all small objects away from her mouth." Finally, Marissa transferred Aubrey into his arms. He could tell from looking into her eyes that she was nervous, that she was not sure she could trust him with her daughter. "Perhaps she senses how on edge you are," he suggested, motioning with his head for Marissa to follow him down the hall. Stopping in front of the bathroom door, he opened it for her and spoke quietly. "Now, while I watch Aubrey for you, I want you to go in that bathroom, take a long, hot, soothing bath, and do not come out of there until you're calm and relaxed."

"But what if she keeps crying," Marissa argued with him reaching for her daughter. "She doesn't like strangers, and I should really try to feed her again even if it will only come back up."

"She'll be fine for a half an hour," Ryan pressed, pushing Marissa into the bathroom by resting his hand on the small of her back. As he closed the door, he reassured her one last time. "We'll be fine, I promise." Standing outside of the door as he listened for Marissa to follow his instructions, he laughed softly to himself as he heard her try to open the door before he spoke up again. "I don't hear that water running yet." Listening to her mumble and complain as she moved away from the entrance of the room, he finally left the hallway and moved towards the kitchen when he heard her start running her bath.

"So, Aubrey," Ryan began, talking loudly over the baby's cries, "when was the last time you were quiet enough for your mom to eat a decent meal?" With only more tears to answer his question, he readjusted the little girl in his arms so that he had his right one free. "That's what I thought."

As Marissa took a bath, Ryan worked quickly to prepare her something to eat, deciding that he would join her. After defrosting some shrimp he had frozen in the freezer, he grilled them and put them into a fresh salad. Boiling water, he cooked enough angel hair pasta to feed them both before warming up left over mushroom alfredo sauce he had made a few days before. Slicing some Italian bread, he applied a light layer of butter and then garlic salt before toasting it in the broiler. Just as he was putting the finishing touches on the dining room table, transferring the food and dishes so that the meal would be ready to eat, he realized that Aubrey's cries had subsided completely, that she was peacefully resting in his arms as he softly spoke about everything he was doing to prepare their late dinner.

Afraid she would start crying again, Ryan recited various recipes he had memorized while he cleaned up the kitchen waiting for Marissa, and, for reasons beyond his knowledge, the little girl remained silent, his deep, comforting voice the only noise throughout the spacious apartment. Finishing loading the dishwasher, Ryan tossed the towel down on the clean counter and turned around to see a smiling Marissa resting against the door jam as she merely watched him move around the kitchen talking to her daughter.

"How did you ever do that," she asked, holding out her hands in a silent plea that he let her hold her angelic baby.

Lowering her hands with his free one, he motioned for her to follow him out of the kitchen and into the dining room where he showed her the meal he had prepared for them.

"I have no idea what I did right, but she's quiet and happy, so let's not break the spell. Besides," he smiled down at her as Marissa took a seat, "I think you deserve to enjoy this meal more than I do."

"But you made it," she argued.

"Yeah, but I've also had weeks of quiet meals either at work or at a restaurant when you've barely left the apartment and always had Aubrey with you." Picking up his own fork, he started eating until he realized she wasn't yet. "What are you waiting for? Dig in while it's still hot."

Several minutes later as they were both enjoying their late night supper, Marissa spoke up. "You know, I didn't even know that you cooked. When I came home this evening and found the kitchen a mess, I didn't know what to think, but never did I think that you made yourself dinner. Did your mom teach you how to cook before she passed away?"

"My mom could do many things," Ryan explained with a far away look in his eyes and a smile gracing his lips as he thought about his deceased mother, "but cooking was not one of them. Luckily, we had full time cooks even when I was a child." For some reason, as they sat in the dining room amicably sharing a meal, Marissa's daughter resting contently against his shoulder, Ryan felt at ease enough to talk about his mom. He could barely talk about her to his father without getting upset, but, enjoying his memories too much, he decided not to question his ease and just experience it while he could.

"So then you were one of those little rich boys who hid out in the kitchen and fraternized with the help," Marissa teased him, bringing Ryan back to their conversation and away from his own reflective thoughts.

"Far from it. I actually taught myself how to cook in college," he admitted. When she looked as if she was about to press for more information, he continued. "Sometimes, during the day when it was too early to start drinking or pick up a one night stand, I would have nothing to do to keep my mind distracted, keep it from wandering places I didn't want it to go. Flipping mindlessly through the channels one day, I found the food network, saw what some television chef was making, and decided it looked good. I tried to follow along and make it myself, it turned out to be a disaster, but I realized afterwards that while I was cooking, my mind had been silent and I had been completely focused on the task at hand. From that point on, it became another means of escape for me. After four years of college, I became a pretty good cook. You name it, I could probably make it."

"And that's why the TV is always on the food channel," Marissa surmised thoughtfully, smiling up at Ryan after hearing his story. "It's nice to know you have a hobby. You've known for a long time that I paint, and now I know this about you. Cooking makes you seem….I don't know…like a real person, like someone that I could identify with. Knowing you can cook makes you approachable, human."

"Is painting your only hobby," he asked her, suddenly interested in their conversation. He hadn't just….talked to someone in years. Normally, all his conversations had ulterior motives, even those with his father as his dad fished for information about his personal life.

"I used to play tennis," Marissa answered him. "Back in boarding school and when I was an undergraduate student, I competed, but now, well before I became pregnant, I just gave lessons. What about you? What else does Ryan Atwood enjoy when he lets his guard down and is himself?"

Watching her, Ryan was slow to answer. He couldn't believe that he was confiding in her, a woman who scared him more than anything or anyone else he had ever met or seen in his life. Finally, he answered, "I like to ride my bike."

"Like mountain biking?"

"No," he responded, suddenly getting more animated, "I do trick riding, you know like what they do at the x-games, well as often as I can. My dad would never approve of such things, so I've always had to sneak it."

And that's how their meal continued. As dish after dish disappeared, Ryan and Marissa merely talked on about their lives, sharing with each other things they enjoyed. The conversation consisted of only surface level topics, but it was more than all the past conversations they had shared combined, and, as time ticked by, Aubrey remained calm and quiet as if she was enjoying listening to the two adults talk.

Early the next morning, Marissa rolled over in bed and almost panicked. Aubrey was not in her bassinet; she was alone in her room. Sitting up in bed, she remembered that after their late night meal the evening before, Ryan had insisted that she go and sleep for a few hours, that he was wide awake and would be for a while because he had taken a long nap that afternoon so he would watch her baby for her. So, after feeding Aubrey once again while Ryan cleared the table so as not to intrude upon her privacy, she had given in to his offer after arguing for only a little while, too exhausted to fight him for long. She had agreed to rest, but he was to wake her as soon as the baby got up, because she knew she'd be sick once again. That had been hours before though.

Climbing out of bed, Marissa opened her door and made her way down the hall towards the living room, hopeful that maybe, just maybe Aubrey had not gotten sick that night and that was why Ryan had let her sleep. As soon as she came to the end of the hall though, she knew her hopes had been unfounded. In a pile upon the floor sat Aubrey's pajamas, Ryan's t-shirt, and several towels that he had used to clean up the vomit. _I never heard him come in the room to change her clothes_, she said silently to herself as she made her way towards the couch where she saw a figure sleeping in the morning shadows. Switching on a lamp, a soft, gentle light filled room, and, as Marissa turned around to look for her daughter, her breath caught in her throat and she had to stifle back a sob when she saw the sight in front of her.

Sound asleep on the couch, Ryan, shirtless with only his sweatpants on, had a sleeping Aubrey on his chest, a blanket tucked gently around her small frame. Lifting the cover as delicately as she could so as not to disturb either Ryan or her little girl, she couldn't help but giggle softly to herself as she saw that Aubrey was in nothing but her diaper, that Ryan had apparently not wanted to either take the time to change her clothes or disturb Marissa as she slept, so he had not bothered to put a clean pair of pajamas on her.

Pulling away from the slumbering pair, Marissa moved as quickly as she could back to her room without making a noise. Although she could have gone back to bed, getting some more much needed rest, the artist in her wouldn't allow her to pass up the opportunity to paint a portrait of her daughter as she slept soundly on the man's chest who was, if only in name, her father. Setting up her easel, Marissa began to work, a smile on her face as she painted into the morning, and Ryan and Aubrey remained completely oblivious to the world around them as the simple miracles that make life precious worked their magic on the little, promising family.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Just a quick note this time. This will not be the last time I post before Christmas. I have a cute, holiday one shot planned as a present for all my readers, and that should be up by Saturday night. I hope this chapter (and the next) for this story do not disappoint, because, stupid me, talked them up. LOL Anyway, happy holidays and enjoy!_

Charlynn

Chapter Eight

Something felt…wrong, not necessarily a bad wrong, but, as Ryan woke up much earlier than he normally did on a Sunday morning, he knew that he had never been awakened like this before. His entire body felt exhausted, and it took him several minutes of struggling to open his eyes. Lifting one hand to his face, he scrubbed away the sleep from the corners of his eyes and attempted to rejuvenate his body by roughly rubbing his forehead and temples. Nothing seemed to work; it was like his mind was under a fog of numbness.

It was still fairly dark in the room, but he could tell it was early morning as the space took on an almost grey tint before dawn. His guess, and granted he was no boy scout, was that it was just approaching six in the morning, an absurdly early hour. He didn't even get up that early during the work week. _Ugh,_ his mind groaned silently as he stretched his body out across the cramped couch,_ I didn't even fall asleep until almost three a.m., because Aubrey got fussy, started crying again, and then threw up._

With that thought, his mind sprung into action. "Aubrey!" His voice was panicked. He was supposed to be watching her for Marissa, and, here he was, sleeping on the job. What if something happened to her? What would Marissa do to him? Snapping his eyes open desperately, he went to jump off the couch when his body finally recognized what had woke him up. Little Aubrey was safe and sound, lying on his chest, – _I must have fallen asleep with her_, Ryan realized, the thought frightening in and of itself because of how intimate the gesture was – squirming and softly crying. She was awake and upset, and Ryan had no idea what to do. These cries weren't the same as the ones from the night before when she hadn't felt well and had gotten sick on him; these were more like whimpers.

"She's awake so she can't be having a nightmare," Ryan talked himself through the issue at hand, standing up and cradling the miserable, little girl against his chest protectively. _Do babies even have nightmares? Hm…I'll have to look that up…or ask Marissa, she'd know. _"Does your diaper need changed," he altered his train of thought, feeling her petite bottom and noticing that the diaper was perfectly dry. _Funny, I thought babies needed their diapers changed every few hours._ "You're not too cold, because your skin feels warm but not too warm that I'd be afraid you have a fever."

_Think, Atwood, think. This is not rocket science. She's just a little girl. How hard can it be?_ Up and down, back and forth he paced the living room. If he would have been more aware of his actions, he would have realized that he was doing exactly what Marissa did with Aubrey when she was upset, that he was emulating the only real parent he had observed for long periods of time. Sure, he had seen his own parents take care of him, but he didn't remember what they were like when he was a baby, that was impossible, and he had never really paid attention to their actions; they had just been expected and taken for granted.

"Babies think instinctively," he reasoned to himself, "so, all you have to do is think about what you're base instincts are." _Sex_, he realized, _sex is the first thing I think about as soon as I get up in the morning. _"And you're a sick pervert not a child. Think of your needs, the things you need to survive." Once he put it like that, the answer was simple. "You're hungry," he said out loud to the upset baby in his arms, unable to keep a ridiculously cheesy smile off of his face. He had figured something out about a baby without having to immediately go to Marissa.

"Well, let's go to the kitchen and see if you Mom has any bottles already made that I can give you. I'll probably do it the wrong way, but if you're this upset, than I don't think you'll be too picky." As they made their way to the kitchen, Ryan talking to Aubrey the whole time, he never realized how like a dad he was acting. That would have scared him into inactivity, frozen his mind from processing thoughts and his body from moving. To him, what he was doing was just right, impulsive, _instinctual_.

"Well, that answers that question," Ryan said as he peered into the fridge that was free of pre-made bottles. "And even I know you can't feed an infant regular milk, and Marissa doesn't give you formula, so that leaves us one option." Closing the fridge, they left the kitchen and quickly made their way to the hallway. "Looks like we're going to have to wake up your Mom, kid."

The hallway, free of outside, natural illumination was still clothed in absolute darkness, making Ryan realize how exhausted he was. _How the hell does Marissa do this every day,_ he asked himself. He knew she barely got any sleep, and that the few hours that Aubrey had gotten while laying with him that night were a rarity. Sometimes he would hear them pacing all evening as the little girl cried. _She must be running on nothing, functioning just to make sure Aubrey's as okay as she can be_. Her selfless actions impressed him, and he realized, once again, just how strong and capable of a woman he was living with. She was a force to be reckoned with, obviously intelligent, confident, and capable of doing just about anything she set her mind to. Laughing, he realized she was more adept at running a fortune 500 company that he was, and he had been trained to do it his whole life. Pushing his thoughts aside and dismissing his silent ideas as a symptom of fatigue, he made his way into Marissa's room and to her bedside.

Sitting down on the edge, he was puzzled as to how he should wake her. It was obvious by the look on her peaceful face that she was in a deep sleep, and, knowing she deserved it, he felt terrible he had to rouse her, but, then again, he knew she would rather sacrifice her own rest for the comfort of her daughter. He didn't want to scare her, but he was unsure if a simple touch on her shoulder or saying her name would be forceful enough to bring her out of her dreams and into reality. It turned out though that he didn't have to do a thing.

In a soft voice, she startled him as she instructed, "here, hand her to me. I'll feed her in bed."

"What….when….how did you even know we were here," Ryan stumbled with his words, utterly bewildered.

"I heard Aubrey crying," Marissa replied as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. "I always wake up as soon as I hear her. Mother's intuition," she finished as she pulled the nightgown she had been wearing over her head and tossed it beside her. Lifting her daughter out of his arms, he merely sat there, in awe, and watched as the little girl immediately attached herself to Marissa's bare breast. He was amazed Marissa felt comfortable enough around him to feed her right in front of him, but he was too mesmerized to say anything; he didn't want to break the spell he was under. It was such a simple, common gesture, a mother feeding their child from the nourishment their own body created, that millions of women around the world did it daily, but it was also something Ryan had never seen for himself .Excusing his wonder and admiration as a general feeling towards all mothers, he couldn't accept the fact that it was seeing the woman who had so, unwittingly, captured his attention over the past ten months breast feeding the life they had created together that was the real cause of his astonishment.

"You don't have to stay here, Ryan," Marissa told him kindly, her voice soft and melodic as if she were in a trance, breaking the spell he was under. "Go back to bed; you must be tired, because you're definitely not used to this little princess' crazy sleeping schedule."

He gave her a slight nod to recognize what she had said, but she was too absorbed in observing her daughter, in running her hands gently over Aubrey's silky smooth, powder scented skin to even remember he was still in the room with her, but, for some strange reason, Ryan couldn't leave their side yet.

"If you need anything," he started, unsure of what he was about to say, "you know….just ask. I'm just going to be in my room."

"Thanks," Marissa acknowledged his gesture, smiling up at him. "And thanks for last night, too," she continued, "for letting me take a bath in peace, making me dinner, watching Aubrey, talking to me. It was….nice. Oh, and sorry she got sick on you."

"How did you know that?"

Marissa giggled. _I made her laugh…REALLY laugh_, Ryan realized to himself, grinning at the sound of her mirth. It felt good to make her smile and enjoy herself. "Ryan, come on, you're shirtless and Aubrey's in nothing but her diaper. It wasn't that hot last night that you couldn't stand to wear clothes. She got sick on you. Just put your dirty clothes with ours, and I'll wash them for you as…I don't know….a way to apologize."

He went to argue with her, to say that it was unnecessary, that he could even put the load in for her before he went back to bed, but, stopping himself, he realized it was her way of making a gesture, just as his offer to take the gifts back to the apartment from the hospital had been a gesture. She was trying to do her part in making them friends. So, instead of saying a word, he nodded, once again, to show his agreement before turning around and offering a slight wave before walking down the hallway towards his own room. Despite everything that had just happened between them, he couldn't wait to get into bed. He wasn't sure if he had ever been this tired before, and, for the first time in years, the playboy was craving something more than he was sex: sleep.

It had been a couple of hours…several minutes…a day…a millennium…one hour…sheer seconds since Ryan had walked into his bedroom to go back to sleep, but yet he still sat at the edge of his bed, in a trance, staring ahead at the vision before him, his hands clutching the small note that had been with the gift. He couldn't touch the present, it was still wet, but he wasn't sure if he would ever be able to. If he were to let his fingers brush against it, he might ruin the simple beauty of the piece, taint it in someway. Growing up with a privileged lifestyle and a mother who adored art, he was no stranger to fine paintings, but this, without a doubt in Ryan's mind, was the most powerful portrait he had ever seen.

_That can't be me_, his heart reasoned. _There's no possible way I could be that…comfortable with a baby. There's no way I could leave myself that open to another person. _Yet, at the same time, his mind knew that he was indeed looking at a painting of himself with Aubrey lying asleep on his chest. Marissa must have woken up during the night…or early morning really, seen them, and decided to paint their portrait together. Even though he couldn't believe she would actually give it to him, what was even more unbelievable was what his own eyes saw for themselves and what the small, personal, gracious note said in his hands.

He was at peace in the portrait. There were no walls up, no forms of protection for his heart to make sure no one would be able to hurt him. While he had been asleep, he realized, he had let his guard down; he had let the little, innocent girl in. His head was tilted down towards hers as it rested on his chest so that he could delicately rest his lips on the soft, silky tufts of her blonde hair, so he could take in her sweet, gentle baby scent while he slept. His arms were carefully cradled around her over the blanket he had spread over her vulnerable body to ensure that it would not slip while they were sleeping and she would remain warm. But his favorite part of the painting was that her tiny head rested right over his heart, that one of her gorgeous, creamy hands was placed flat against his chest as if she wanted to feel him close to her. By looking at the portrait, he could not deny that they shared a connection, and it was obvious that when his walls were down, they both felt comfortable with each other. For the first time in his life since his mother had died, knowing this…feeling that way did not scare him. It was just right, impulsive, _instinctual_.

Tearing his eyes away from the painting, he cast them, once again, on the short letter in his hands. This is what he had been doing since he had stepped foot in his room: alternating his attention from the note to the painting, back and forth, back and forth. He couldn't get enough of either of them.

Ryan,

I'm not even sure if you will want this portrait, if it will even mean anything to you, but I wanted you to have it. Please, don't throw it away or stash it in some dark closet. If you really don't want it, then give it back. Someday, Aubrey will want to know about her Father, and I'll be able to show her that painting and tell her he did know who she was, that he did…care, because, Ryan, no matter how hard you try to deny it, you do. I could see it in your face, how you held her so tenderly, in the way she felt so comfortable in your arms. She knew you were her Daddy, and that's what you are, no matter how estranged your relationship someday becomes. You're the only Dad she'll ever have, and, no matter what happens between us, whether or not we'll be able to pull off this friendship thing we're trying right now, I realized tonight as I watched you with her, that I want the two of you to have a relationship. I think you both need and deserve to love each other. It's hard to move on from pain, trust me, I know that better than you realize., but if you don't let go of your past and live in the present, are you even living? Your Mom would want you to be a part of your daughter's life, to love and care for her. If I have learned one thing these past few months from all of your Dad's stories about your Mom and your childhood, it's how much she loved you. She wanted you to have the world, Ryan, to have everything she always wanted and never got. You, her child, were the most important thing in her life, so she would want your daughter to be the center of your universe as well. And she is your daughter, Ryan, so much so; she's the perfect combination of the both of us. If we've ever done something right in our lives, it's that we made this beautiful little girl together. She might not have been planned or even wanted initially, but I couldn't imagine my life without her in it now. So, thank you…for our daughter. She's the best gift anyone has ever given me, and I hope, someday, you'll be able to say the same thing.

Marissa

The whole note was beautiful, mind boggling, but beautiful. He knew that Marissa loved her daughter, but he had no idea that love could be so…selfless, so complete, so unconditional, and the things she had said about his Mom, they were words he had been needing to hear for years. Sure, his Dad had told him the same things in his own way, but they had never seemed so honest and compassionate. For some reason, when Marissa said them, Ryan could believe what she said to be the truth, and, if there had ever been something he had never wanted to do, it was to never let his Mom down. However, putting that all aside, there was one word in the letter his heart would not let him forget, and his mind kept repeating it in Marissa's voice. Over and over again, she called him Daddy, called him Aubrey's Daddy, called him her baby's Daddy. It felt as if with that one word, she had given him the world…just as his Mom would have wished for him.

He didn't know how to move out of the moment he was locked in, how to accept the revelations the portrait and letter had exposed to him, how to let go of the past and move into the present as Marissa had told him to. He knew he wanted to, that he needed to not only for himself but for all three of them: Marissa, Aubrey, and himself, but it was easier said than done. It felt as if he were in some form of uncertain limbo where, for the first time in his life, he doubted his capabilities. _What if I'm not good enough? What if I disappoint them, don't live up to their expectations of me? What if…what if…what if…what if…what if…what if? _

"RYAN!!!"

_Marissa,_ he realized standing up from his bed, the letter forgotten and floating down in the subtle air currents until it landed on the ground. That was not a merely worried cry of his name; she was hysterical, losing control, on the verge of simply breaking down, and, suddenly, his self-doubt and concerns didn't matter. All that mattered was that he was needed, that something was wrong and Marissa had not called out for his father, for Callie, or for anyone else; she had called out for him.

Sprinting down the hallway that connected their rooms, Ryan didn't bother with formalities or courtesy but, instead, threw open Marissa's bedroom door and ran into the room breathless and scared of what he was going to find. _What if…what if something is wrong, something seriously wrong, and I'm too late. It took me weeks…months to realize what was important, and if my actions hurt either of them…._ His thoughts trailed off though when Marissa instantly started sobbing as soon as she saw him.

She was standing there, clutching a shrieking Aubrey in her arms as if her life depended upon it, in nothing but a thin, somewhat wet white t-shirt, tears dripping down her pale, scared face, her hair in complete disarray, her bottom lip trembling. _So beautiful._

"I can't do this any longer, I can't, Ryan, I can't," she whimpered, staring up at him with frightened, child like eyes. Never had he seen her so vulnerable, so open before. "I've done everything they told me to do, but nothing works. She's still miserable, and, I'm sorry, I don't care what the doctors say, this….her throwing up and inability to eat is not normal. Something is wrong with my little girl, and I don't know what to do. I can't lose her, Ryan, I can't. She's all I have left; she's all I've ever really had, and I can't go back to the way I was before her. I always promised myself this would never happen again to someone I love, but she won't eat. She won't eat…she won't…she…" Her voice got softer, desperate, almost pleading for him to make everything alright. "Ryan, I can't fix this…her….my daughter….our baby."

"Marissa," Ryan tried to get her attention, but she was too lost in her fear to comprehend what he said. Gently, he reached out and cupped her face, bringing her wide-eyed, bright blue gaze up to meet his. "Marissa, I need you to listen to me, okay. I'm going to take care of this, take care of Aubrey….both of you, I promise. Do you trust me?" She slowly nodded her head yes. "Okay, now, I want you to hand her to me. I'm going to change her clothes quickly. While I do that, can you just sit down for a minute and take some deep breaths, calm down?" Again, she nodded her head to show that she could hear what he was saying and agreed to do what he asked of her. Helping her sit on the edge of bed, Ryan then leaned down and delicately pulled Aubrey out of her arms. Although she didn't say anything and took deep breaths as he had instructed her to, her eyes followed his movements the whole time. Dressing the baby, he realized he had no idea what he was doing, but it didn't matter. As long as she had clothes on so they could leave, that's all they needed.

Once he was finished dressing her, he put her in her bassinet even though she was still crying and knelt in front of Marissa. "Will you let me help you change," he asked her softly not wanting to scare her but needing to know she wouldn't be offended if he touched her.

"Yes."

Her answer was in a whisper, gentle and timid, but it was a good sign. She was capable of words again, and she felt comfortable enough with Ryan helping her to let him undress her. Carefully, he pulled the soiled t-shirt off of her small frame, leaving her in nothing but her panties. Stepping away from her for just for a moment, he went towards her dresser and pulled out a simple, clean outfit: a bra, a basic pair of jeans and another t-shirt, this one appropriate for wear outside of the apartment. While he dressed her, neither of them said anything, and she merely sat there letting him touch and hold her body as he slid the clothes on. Never had Ryan shared a more intimate moment with a woman.

Standing up, he moved back to the bassinet and retrieved Aubrey, returning her to Marissa's waiting arms. "I'll be right back," he told her. "Let me just go and change, and then we'll get going."

"Where?"

"The doctors might feel as if they can brush you aside and not listen to your concerns, but they'll be less likely to do that with me, especially once I remind them just how much my Father has done for their hospital over the years."

With that, he turned around and headed for the door to go back to his room, but her shy, frightened voice stopped him. "Wait."

"What's wrong," he said as he moved to her side once again.

"Can we just….," Marissa hesitated with what she was going to say. "I just don't want to be alone right now."

Ryan smiled at her, it was his way of showing her he understood, and gently led her to his room. There, she waited for him to change, and then, together, they left for the hospital minutes later looking for answers, needing help, and hoping for a miracle, both too wrapped up in Aubrey to realize one had already happened that early, July morning.

"Marissa, really," the patronizing doctor said for what might have been the tenth time that morning, his voice slightly elevated to override the soft moans of discomfort, hunger, and sheer exhaustion being emitted by Aubrey who lay nestled in Marissa's arms, "I don't know how often I have to tell you this, but there is nothing wrong with your daughter. She was examined right after she was born; nothing was wrong. She's had her two week check up; nothing was wrong. I examined her just a little while ago when you first came in to appease you; and, yet again, nothing was wrong."

"So, you're telling me it's normal for a baby to vomit after every single feeding," she asked him not believing his pronouncement that Aubrey was not ill.

"I'm sure you're exaggerating. There's a difference between spit up and vomit, and it's time you learn that. I understand," he continued before either Ryan or Marissa could protest, "you're a first time mother, and some of this seems a little bewildering, but you'll get the hang of it eventually."

"She's not exaggerating," Ryan stuck up for her. "I've seen it, when Aubrey gets sick. There's nothing calm about it nor is it like spit up. It's violent, powerful, and frightening. A little girl like her should not be able to project her vomit across a room."

"Mr. Atwood, what you have to do with this situation, I have no idea, and I don't care to know, but, frankly, Miss Cooper's daughter is none of your business."

"Yes, she is," Marissa corrected him, "and if you cared at all about my little girl, you'd know that already."

Ryan turned to look at her, a smile on his face. "It's okay, Marissa; it doesn't matter right now. All that matters," he pushed, turning back to the doctor, "is that we figure out why Aubrey is sick and what we can do to fix it."

"That's just it," the doctor explained, "there is nothing wrong with her. Listen, I've tried to be kind, to be understanding, but I see that I'm going to have to tell you bluntly. Aubrey is physically fine; there is no reason she should be upset all the time. What that leads me to believe is that it's not a medical problem, but that you, frankly, don't know what you're doing, Marissa. Taking care of a baby is difficult. It takes patience, love, and constant care, and, perhaps, you were too young, too selfish, too immature to have a baby. Maybe if you consulted a professional, hired a nanny, they'd be able to make sure that Aubrey is taken care of properly, because, at this point, after nearly four weeks, if you haven't figured it out yet, I doubt you ever will. If you want, I can give you the names of some excellent child care providers, help you find a suitable candidate for the job. I'm sure Mr. Atwood has enough money to pay for it for you since you said your daughter is his business, but, other than that, there is nothing further I can do for you. Now, I'm busy; I have other patients with real problems to attend to, so if you'll excuse me…."

He went to stand up, but Ryan's sudden action stopped him dead in his tracks. Springing out of his seat, he leaned across the doctor's desk, his face within inches of the practitioner's, eyes crackling with anger, his body seething with rage. Immediately, the doctor sat back down, scared and, abruptly, at a loss for words.

"I have sat here for over an hour and listened to you not only belittle Marissa but dismiss her concerns about her daughter. I have listened to you ignore every word she told you, interrupt her, and roll your eyes at her comments, but I will not sit here and listen to you accuse her of being a bad mother. You have no idea how much she loves her daughter, what she has been through the past few weeks trying to soothe and comfort her. You have not listened to her pace up and down our apartment all night long, never getting any sleep, as she tries to quiet her daughter's sobs. You have not seen her breast feed that little girl and get lost in her beauty and grace. You have not seen her ignore her own health and well-being to make sure that Aubrey is taken care of to the best of her ability. You haven't seen anything, and you know nothing. Aubrey could not ask for a better mother."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Atwood," the doctor tried to apologize, but Ryan immediately cut him off and interrupted what he was saying.

"Do you know who I am?" When the terrified health professional said nothing, Ryan raised his voice to a deafening bellow and asked him again. "Do you know who I am?!"

"You….you're Ryan Atwood."

"That's right, John Ryan Atwood, IV, son of John Ryan Atwood, III, CEO of Atwood Industries, one of the most powerful men in the state, and the very man who not only paid for this wing that we're sitting in right now but several other wings of this hospital. Now, how do you think the board would react if I went to them and told them that you not only dismissed the mother of John Ryan Atwood, III's grandchild but that you also insulted her? I would guess that you would lose your job, and that would truly be a shame, wouldn't it, to lose such a constant professional, a sympathetic, kind hearted, intelligent doctor like yourself." The man merely swallowed the lump that was continually growing in his dry, constricted throat. "Now, this is what you're going to do," Ryan instructed him, handing the doctor a pen to write with. "You're going to write down the names of all the top pediatricians in this state, of course legibly so that Marissa and I can read it, you're going to apologize to her for how you've been treating her for the past month, and then you're going to hand me Aubrey's file. After that, you're dismissed from her case, and we will find someone who actually knows what they're doing to take care of our daughter. My little girl is going to get better if it's the last thing I do."

And with that, Ryan, Marissa, and a softly crying Aubrey left the doctor's office, list of names and file in hand, to face Aubrey's sickness together. Without even thinking about it, Ryan reached out and took Marissa's hand in his as they moved down the brightly lit hospital hallway, wanting to offer her his strength, support, and comfort and needing to feel her return those same things to him. Being there with her, holding her hand, for him, was just right, impulsive, _instinctual_.


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: You guys have no idea what you do to me, how your enthusiasm for this story makes me panic when it's time to post again. I was so nervous about this chapter, I completely edited it twice already, and I only just finished writing it this afternoon. As always, I hope it doesn't disappoint. Also, I apologize for the mistake I made in the last chapter. Whatever made me put "John" instead of "James", I will never know. Thanks Lee for pointing that out to me so that I could fix it. :D Anyway, there is another note at the bottom of this post which will explain two things. Enjoy!_

Charlynn

Chapter Nine

"Pyloric Stenosis."

Ryan listened to the words, two medical terms that meant absolutely nothing to him, and sat their dumbfounded. Fifteen letters, six syllables, that's all it took to summarize weeks of agony for Aubrey, a month of uncertainty and fear for Marissa, and countless hours of lost sleep they had all suffered through. Turning to Marissa, he realized that she was experiencing the same disbelief that he was. Her mouth was agape, her eyes confused and curious, her hands fidgeting nervously for it was the first time all day Aubrey was either not in her arms or his.

They had refused to leave the hospital, pacing the halls with their sick daughter while taking turns on the phone with various, highly recommended pediatricians. Finally, after a hellish eight hours, they were sitting together in a dark, cramped office with the person who had finally discovered what was wrong with their baby. A mother herself, Dr. Abigail Lewis specialized in pediatric digestion, and Ryan had insisted that she fly in, on his company's private jet, that afternoon. He had arranged for a car to meet her at the airport, and she had come to the hospital immediately, not even bothering to check into a hotel first.

Marissa's voice snapped Ryan from his thoughts. "I don't know what that is. I've never even heard of it before."

"Most people haven't," the doctor laughed softly, offering the concerned parents a small smile in hope of easing their stress and panic. "I could go into the technical terminology, but that will only confuse you. Basically," she explained, standing up and moving to point towards a small diagram of a newborn baby hanging on the wall, "what Aubrey has is a blockage between her stomach and intestine, preventing her food from passing through. The obstruction is approximately the size of an olive, and it will have to be removed so she can eat properly. Right now, a small portion of the food she takes in is able to pass through, but the majority sits in her stomach, building pressure, until her body expels it. That is why she throws up so much and why she is capable of projecting her vomit across a room."

"I don't understand," Marissa cried out softly, once again, looking desperately at the woman sitting in front of her. "What did I do wrong? How did this happen?"

"Oh, Miss Cooper, this is not something you did. Aubrey was born this way. Now, the impasse might not have been as closed when she was first born, but, because four weeks have passed since then, it has continued to grow over. Also, it was not something you would have thought to have her checked for. I've looked over both of your medical histories, and there is no hereditary predominance for Pyloric Stenosis in either of your families. Plus, this is a disease more common in first born sons, something your daughter obviously isn't. Neither of you could have predicted this or seen this diagnosis coming. From what I can tell, Aubrey is a well cared for, happy, and healthy child who just has a slight birth defect that needs taken care of, and we're already starting the steps necessary to remedy the problem."

"What exactly does that entail," Ryan spoke up for the first time. "What's next for us, for Aubrey?"

"Right now, we're preparing her for surgery. She was slightly dehydrated, so, before we can operate in order to remove the obstacle preventing her from eating properly, we're pumping fluids into her body intravenously. Also, simultaneously, there is a tube in her nose to drain any fluids that are currently in her stomach. We're hoping that we'll be able to operate by tomorrow evening."

"When you say operate," Marissa questioned, her eyes brimming with frightened tears, "what exactly do you mean?"

"I know any time you hear the word surgery, especially in concern with your child," the doctor answered, noticing the terrified mother in front of her reach for her baby's father's hand needing his reassurance and encouragement, "it's scary, but you have nothing to fear. We're going to be performing an open surgery, during which a small incision will be made into your daughter's abdominal wall. Once inside, we will cut the pyloric muscle, which is the muscle that allows food to pass through, to widen the channel between the stomach and the intestine."

Taking control of the situation, Ryan pressed, "what about scarring?"

"There will be scarring," the doctor revealed, "but it is minimal. Now, it will be up to you as to whether or not you elect to have plastic surgery to eradicate it, but I recommend that you wait to make that decision when Aubrey is old enough to offer her own opinion. I've found that most people do not mind their scars, that it becomes a part of their own personal identity. Most of them elect to keep it."

"And what about after surgery, will Marissa be able to continue to breast feed her, or will she have to be placed on special formula? Are there follow up procedures, exams, special precautions we'll have to take?"

"Whoa, whoa, there Mr. Atwood," Dr. Lewis chuckled good-naturedly, amused. "Slow down. Let me answer one question at a time. After surgery, we'll have to keep Aubrey here under observation to make sure there is no infection and that the surgery was a success for two days, but, after that, you'll be able to take her home. For the first couple of feedings, she'll be given a special fluid, but, following those two feedings, Marissa is welcome to breast feed again. In fact, we encourage the mothers to feed their children within 24 hours of the surgery not only to test the procedure's success but also to reassure the mothers that, once they get their babies home, they'll be able to feed them normally. However, I want to warn you that it is normal for children to vomit small amounts for the first 24 to 48 hours after surgery."

"What, why," Marissa questioned, re-entering the conversation. "I thought this was supposed to fix the problem."

"It's just an adjustment period usually. However, this is not full proof. Rarely, the cutting of the muscle will be incomplete, and so the baby will continue to throw up after being taken home. If this happens, you will need to call me immediately, and we'll have to schedule a second surgery as soon as possible. But, in all likelihood," the health professional reassured them before they could panic, "Aubrey's surgery will be a success. I have complete trust in my staff, and there's a reason why you called me and not some other doctor. This is my specialty. So far, in fifteen years of practice, I've only had to re-operate on one patient, and I've had hundreds."

"Are there any other risks," Ryan asked. He could sense that Marissa was starting to get edgy, that she wanted to see Aubrey, but they needed to know all the information they could before they left the doctor's office.

"Yes," Dr. Lewis answered him bluntly, "but, again, they are rare as well. It is unlikely, but infections at the incision site have occurred before. If this happens, there will be a red or raised incision, with or without drainage, but, unlike before, this I've never had happen with any of my cases. Years ago, this was a much scarier disease, because doctors knew little or nothing about it, but today, it is easy to fix. The only problem proves to be diagnosis. Unfortunately, Pyloric Stenosis still goes undetected for way too long, parents are blamed, and whole families suffer. However," she changed the subject, "Aubrey has been diagnosed, and she's already on the road to recovery. Why don't we go and see that beautiful little girl of yours," the doctor suggested, standing up and moving away from the desk. Opening the door to the hospital corridor, she waited for Ryan and Marissa to join her. "You won't be able to hold her right now, but you can sit with her and watch her up until the point we wheel her away for surgery. I'm sure she'd love to see her Mommy and Daddy right now." With reassuring smiles to both Ryan and Marissa, the three of them left the office, the fluorescent lights dimming slowly as the automatic, spring door creaked effortlessly closed; its movement symbolic of the journey the little family was on. It had been a gradual and lengthy process, but eventually the case would be closed and sealed tightly, leaving them protected and sheltered from the outside world. All they had to do was get through the next 72 hours.

As they waited for the moment when Aubrey would be deemed ready for surgery, the world seemed to come almost to a standstill. Time did not pass with the ticking of the clock, seconds, minutes, hours did not matter, nor did they pay attention to the changing of the tides or the rising and falling of the sun. Instead, the passage of time was measured by each drip of the IV leading into Aubrey's tiny hand which was strapped down on the table so she wouldn't accidentally pull out the various tubes piercing her delicate, fragile skin. With each drip, Ryan and Marissa watched their daughter get a step closer to recovering, and nothing else mattered.

Because they were not allowed to hold or touch her, Ryan could tell that Marissa was slowing starting to lose control. Every time the tiny, precious girl would let out a whimper or a cry, her large, deep blue eyes moving to look up at her Mom who was sitting patiently, vigilantly at her side, it would tear Marissa's heart in two. All she wanted to do was comfort her daughter, but the only thing she could offer was her constant presence.

While Marissa would watch Aubrey, Ryan couldn't move his eyes off the mother of his child. After talking with Dr. Lewis, he was positive that the surgery would be a success, that their daughter would fully recover and live a healthy, normal life, and he knew that Marissa was worrying about her enough for the both of them. However, she was not alarmed about herself, and that scared him. He realized while he had been ignoring his feelings and pushing them aside, building a wall around his heart, she had been a single parent to a very sick little girl, wearing herself thin, exhausting herself, and not taking care of her body. When was the last time she had gotten a full night's sleep? Was it before Aubrey was born? How often did she eat while she had been caring for their daughter alone? Had she been too concerned with making sure Aubrey was fed to fix food for herself?

Letting his eyes roam her body, he took in her physical appearance. It had been almost a month since she had given birth, and Ryan was positive she was already smaller than she had been the night he had first met her. Her clothes, which should have been somewhat fitted, hung loosely on her body, her once curvaceous figure either hiding behind the folds of clothing or depleted to nothing. Her skin, once robust and glowing with life, was pale, while her hair, instead of long, shiny, and healthy, was limp, dull, and lifelessly pulled back in a simple ponytail for ease and comfort. Perhaps the thing about her appearance that disturbed him the most were her eyes.

Whether they had been flashing with lust and enthusiasm like the night he met her, love and patience while she was pregnant, or even compassion and sensitivity after Aubrey had been born and she was taking care of her, her eyes had always seemed alive; they had sparkled and captivated with their ability to express how Marissa was feeling. But now, as she sat by their daughter, tears willing to be released but denied access onto her alabaster cheeks, her expression seemed empty, broken, and Ryan knew there was something else bothering her other than the fact that their little girl was sick. Despite everything though, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. If he wanted to help her, protect her, comfort her, and he did, he would have to get her to open up to him. Unfortunately, Ryan had no idea how to accomplish that, and he feared she would laugh and turn her back on any attempt he would make to be there for her. Luckily, there was something he was now afraid of more than being hurt and turned away: watching Marissa suffer.

Pushing himself off of the wall he had been leaning on, Ryan made the short distance across the private hospital room they were in to stand at Marissa's side. Nervous and still unsure of himself and what he was going to say and do, he had hoped that she would break her gaze away from Aubrey and focus on him, let their eyes meet, before he started to talk, but she didn't even seem to notice his presence beside her. Undeterred, he crouched down to her level, resting his hand on her thigh. It had not been a conscious thought, to touch her, and, even as he felt his hand moving towards her body, he worried it was the wrong action, but it was as if his hand had a mind of its own and wouldn't listen to reason. Perhaps he needed the physical comfort of feeling her close to him before he could take his next step.

"I can't look away from her, Ryan," Marissa's voice was timid, shy, exhausted. "I'm sorry, it's just….what if I look away and something goes wrong, something changes. She needs me."

"She does need you," he agreed with her, swallowing a lump in his throat as he listened to the desperate undertones of her words. "She needs you more than she needs anyone else…."

Interrupting him, Marissa whispered, "she needs you, too." Ryan almost jumped when he felt her hand cover his on her leg, but, instead of showing his surprise, he simply joined their fingers together in a tight clasp. "A child always needs both of her parents," she continued, her eyes taking in every aspect of their daughter, "and we need her."

She was right; Marissa was always right when it came to Aubrey. He did need her. Somewhere, somehow in the past couple of days, the broken little girl lying before him and her Mommy had taken over his world, and he had no idea what to do about it. How did he tell them how he felt? It wasn't enough just to show them, to jump into their lives and act as if the months of pain he had caused them meant nothing. They deserved more than that, but, for now, he knew he had to place his own insecurities and regrets aside. Not everything was about him, and they came first.

Living in the moment instead of the past, Ryan pressed forward, wanting to make Marissa see that she was not only hurting herself by ignoring her health but Aubrey as well. "You won't be any good to her though if you get sick."

Dismissing his concerns, she replied, "I'm fine, Ryan. Right now, I don't matter."

"When was the last time you had something to eat, the night I made you dinner? What about rest, fresh air, sunshine?" Frustrated when she seemed to just ignore his questions, he let go of her hand and reached up to gently turn her face to look at him. "We need you here with us, not in your own hospital room hooked up to an IV yourself."

"I can't leave her alone," she pleaded through trembling lips, unable to hold back her tears and letting them course their way down her tired face. "She's scared, Ryan. I can see it in her eyes, and I promised myself I'd do everything in my power to make sure she was never afraid of anything."

"Our little girl," he reasoned with a soothing smile on his face, "she's so smart and intuitive, Marissa. I know she can sense that you're not okay right now. She loves you, just as much as you love her, and she would want you to take care of yourself. Besides," Ryan continued, doing his best to sound confident and persuasive, "she won't be alone. I'll sit by her side the whole time you're gone."

"Do you promise?"

Standing up, Ryan pulled Marissa with him until she was out of the rocker and on her feet. "I swear to you, Marissa, on my Mother's memory, that I will not even turn my eyes away from Aubrey for a second while you're gone, if you promise me you'll go down to the cafeteria, buy yourself something to eat, and not just a snack but a real, complete meal, take it outside, eat it, and then come back up here to take a nap."

"I'm not taking a nap," she argued, shaking her head profusely at the idea.

"Marissa," he chided, "you need to sleep."

"No," she rebuffed, backing away from him, "No, I refuse to do it. I can't, Ryan! Please, don't ask me to close my eyes on my little girl."

She was starting to panic. "Okay, okay," he soothed, "you don't have to sleep, but what about putting your feet up, resting? Will you agree to that?" Nodding her head positively, Ryan smiled at her. "Now, come on," he said as he pulled open the door of the hospital room for her, "it's time for you to go take care of yourself."

"I won't be gone long," she promised. "And if she becomes upset again, starts to cry, have me paged, and I'll be here as quickly as I can."

"We'll be fine," Ryan confidently replied. "She'll be fine."

He watched as Marissa took one last look at Aubrey before quickly leaving the room, obviously eager to fulfill her promise to eat something nourishing and get some fresh air so she could return to their daughter's side. "So," Ryan spoke softly, moving towards his daughter's bed and taking the seat Marissa had just vacated, "Daddy needs your help, Aubrey. He needs to figure out what's bothering Mommy before it's too late, and I can't be too late….not now, not when I'm finally realizing just how much she means to me."

"Sorry I took so long," Marissa apologized hastily as soon as she walked back through the door to Aubrey's room not even fifteen minutes later, "but it was dinner time, and the cafeteria was busy. I brought you up something to eat, too, so you wouldn't have to leave. If I have to keep up my strength, so do you."

Turning his gaze towards Marissa, Ryan saw her arms filled with various things to eat, much too much food for a single person to consume in one sitting. "I was hoping you'd be gone longer than you were," he revealed, standing up to move to her side to take some of the food from her and put it down on a small table.

Confused, she asked, "why?"

"Because you've been cooped up in this room for almost 24 hours, only leaving to use the conjoined bathroom. You did eat something and get some fresh air, right?"

"I had a turkey sandwich, a salad, and a pear, and, yes, I did eat outside just as you asked." She must have eaten on autopilot, he surmised, not even tasting the food, but he knew better than to push her. She was already on edge enough. Before he could say anything though, Marissa kept talking. At least she was animated about something again. With a burst of energy, she pulled him towards the mountainous pile of food she had brought with her. "You need to eat, too," she explained, motioning for him to pick something to start on. "I didn't know what you'd want, so I tried to grab a little bit of everything. Aubrey doesn't need you getting sick either."

"Thanks," Ryan replied, honestly touched by her gesture, "but I grabbed something to eat a few hours ago when I went outside to call my Dad and give him an update. I'm not really hungry right now."

"What did you have?" Ryan stared at Marissa slightly bewildered by her question. "What did you have to eat," she elaborated, "because I doubt you had anything substantial? You probably grabbed something from the vending machines, and no one can survive solely on junk food."

"You're right," he revealed, pulling her away from the table of food, "I did grab something from the vending machines. I had a bag of chips, a candy bar, and a bottle of pop, but, honestly, I'm not hungry right now. I'll eat some of this," he motioned towards the food she had purchased for him, "later when Aubrey's in surgery. Right now I just want you to rest and relax."

"That's not good enough," Marissa argued, suddenly upset, pulling her hands away from Ryan's and fidgeting. Once again resuming her position by the table with the food, she started organizing it, placing it into piles according to its food group. "Aubrey always told me that," she cried out, her voice bordering on hysterical. "'I've already eaten, Marissa' or 'I'm really not hungry right now,' she'd say, and I would believe her. I always thought, 'why would she lie to me?' or 'why would she not eat?' Everyone eats when they're hungry. I never doubted her even once, not even when she started getting smaller, when she started to withdrawal into herself and shut me out, not even when she would get sick all the time. I was supposed to be her best friend, Ryan," Marissa wailed against him, suddenly finding herself in his arms as he pulled her to the hallway outside of Aubrey's room. She never even noticed they were moving. "I was supposed to be her best friend, and I never realized she had an eating disorder, and, because of me, because I did not care enough to pay attention and take care of her, she died. SHE DIED! And now, years later, I have my own little girl, a daughter I named after my DEAD best friend, promising Aubrey I'd make sure her namesake never suffered the way she did, promising myself that I would be a good Mom, that I would be everything my little girl needed, promising my daughter I would never let anything hurt her, but I failed. I FAILED…AGAIN, because here she is, in the hospital, about to have major surgery, hungry, sick, and scared, and she would have died eventually, too, if you wouldn't have brought us to the hospital. I would have kept listening to the doctors, because what they said was right: I am a bad mother! What kind of mother doesn't notice a birth defect in their child and lets them endure pain for a whole month? Never again though," she continued, ignoring Ryan's attempts to comfort or contradict her words, "I will not let someone I care about hurt themselves or not eat again. So, you can tell me that you're not hungry, Ryan, that you already ate, but I'm not going to believe you, and I won't let you get away with it. You're going to eat something right now, something substantial even if I have to force it down your throat myself! OKAY…..Okay……okay?"

Her words faded off to a mouthed silence, the thoughts continuing, but she was too weak to express them, too drained to say anything else. When she refused to listen to his words, Ryan knew that actions would be the only thing that would get through to her. Helping her slide down the wall so that she was sitting on the floor, leaning up and rocking back and forth against it, he quickly moved from her side, went into Aubrey's room, checked on her, and picked up random pieces of food, not caring what he was going to eat just knowing Marissa needed him to.

Sitting down beside her, he grabbed the first thing he saw, an orange, and started peeling it, not worried that the juice was running down his hands or that he had no place to throw away the peel. "You're right, Marissa," he finally said softly as he moved the first piece of the fruit into his mouth, "I need to eat something healthy, to take care of myself. You're better at this than you think, taking care of people. No one ever worries about what I eat. And Aubrey, your best friend, when she died, you were just a child yourself. There was no way you could have taken care of her, healed her, fixed her. Her disease was a horrible, unfair thing, but you're not to blame. Nor are you at fault for our daughter being sick. She was born that way, and it was not because you did something wrong when you were pregnant. You don't know this, and it's not your fault that you don't, it's mine, but I watched you when you were pregnant. I told myself that I didn't care, that you and the baby didn't mean anything to me, but I couldn't help myself, because you were amazing. I'd never seen someone love another person as much as you love that little girl in that room behind us. There is nothing you could say or do that would persuade me that there is a better mother out there. She is blessed to have you, and I am lucky you're my daughter's Mommy. In a few hours, Aubrey is going to be completely healthy, and the reason she's going to be okay is because you were there, taking care of her, every step of the way."

There were nurses watching them, curious about the outburst and scene that had played out in the otherwise peaceful halls of the hospital, but Ryan waved them off, not wanting them to upset Marissa further. Plus, what went on in their lives was no one else's business but theirs. Their relationship, their family was private.

They sat there, side by side, not talking, as Ryan continued to eat, finishing his orange, consuming a bag of carrots, and then eating a chicken salad sandwich, swallowing bite after bite of food just to reassure Marissa that he would take care of himself, that he would not get sick and leave her like the teenage friend from her past whose memory still haunted her. Once he was finished, he stood up, holding out his hand for her to take as she stood up to join him.

"Ready to go back in and sit with our daughter?"

Her answer was soft, barely perceptible, but firm. "Yes."

Hand in hand, they moved towards the room slowly, but, before they could enter, Dr. Lewis was at their side with a team of nurses and a gurney.

"Ah, Miss Cooper, Mr. Atwood, perfect timing," she greeted them. "We're just taking Aubrey down for surgery."

"But," Marissa stammered, moving to stand in front of their way so they couldn't pass through, "I haven't told her what's going to happen yet. I haven't told her everything will be alright, or that we'll be waiting for her when she's finished. Can't you give me five more minutes? Please, that's all I ask….just five…."

"I'm sorry," Dr. Lewis interrupted, motioning for Ryan to hold Marissa aside, "but we're on a strict schedule. We only have the OR for so long, because there are other surgeries that have to be performed. Aubrey knows you'll be here for her; she knows how much you love her."

"You don't understand," Marissa cried, struggling against Ryan as he was holding her back, "she's going to get upset. She doesn't like strangers; she's never been anywhere without me." As she continued to argue with them, Dr Lewis flashed her a sympathetic look but continued to move Aubrey to the gurney. Just as Marissa predicted, she became upset, her tiny, fragile body heaving with sobs of fear and fright. "She needs me," Marissa begged, tears running down her face. "If I could just hold her for a minute…"

But her voice trailed off as her pleas were ignored, and the medical staff whisked their baby girl down the hallway, out of her sight as Ryan held onto her tightly, refusing to let her go. It tore him apart, having to keep Marissa from their daughter, but he knew it was necessary, that the pain they were all feeling now would be a distant memory as soon as Aubrey was, once again, safely tucked into Marissa's protective arms. Finally, when he knew it was too late for her to go after the doctor and Aubrey, Ryan let go of Marissa, unsure of what they should do while they waited for news of the surgery's success.

"Come on," he tried to convince her, turning around to walk back into the empty hospital room. "Let's wait in here. Perhaps we'll even be able to rest for a little while."

Inside of the room, he waited for Marissa to join him, completely baffled as to how he would be able to console the mother of his child. He was completely out of his comfort level, in unfamiliar territory. He had never been afraid of the unknown before though. Always confident, he would charge into new, unfamiliar circumstances, conquer them, and play it off as if he was permanently poised and self-assured. But this, a relationship, there were no instructions to follow, no project guidelines, no one to delegate the work to. Not only did he have so much to prove to both Marissa and Aubrey, to show them how he cared, but he also needed to change his whole lifestyle, change for them.

Several minutes passed, but still Marissa had not joined him. Wandering out to the hallway, he looked up and down the corridor, but she was no where in sight. Frustrated, he leaned his head against the wall, worried about her but having no idea where to look for the mother of his daughter.

"She was crying," a voice startled him. Looking up, it was a young volunteer. "I watched her," she revealed, "but I didn't know what to do or how to help. She just…said she was sorry, that she had let someone down again, and that her daughter needed her, that she needed to be with her before she ran away."

"Did you see which direction she went," Ryan asked, suddenly hopeful. Without a word, the teenager pointed down the hallway which led to other private rooms, a dead end. "Thanks," he breathed out, moving in the direction that had been indicated to him.

_I know I don't always realize_

_How sleazy it is messing with these girls_

_But something about just being with you_

_Slapped me right in the face, nearly broke me in two_

_It's a mark I've taken heart_

_And I know I will carry it with me for a long, long time_

Blindly, he moved down the corridor. He didn't need to look in the other rooms; without a reason as to why, he knew she wasn't there. Room after room, he moved past, only eventually stopping in front of a closed door. He knew she was in there, could sense her presence. Pushing the thin, industrial, cold entrance open, he saw her, curled up silently in a bed, sobs wracking her already delicate body.

_I don't know if I could drive a car_

_Fast enough to get where you are_

_Or wild enough not to miss the boat completely_

_Honey, I'm thinking maybe_

_You know, just maybe_

Wordlessly, he climbed into the bed with her, pulling her into his arms and waiting to see what her reaction would be. Within seconds, she had turned around, burying herself in his chest and gripping hold of his body so tightly, it was as if he was the only thing keeping her sane, keeping her grounded. Once again, he felt just how much she needed him, and the doubts he had been feeling about how he would show her he cared disappeared. He just needed to be there, to give her strength and comfort, and let her give it back to him. They needed each other. Pulling her body even closer to his, he buried his face in her neck, whispering soft, reassuring, gentle words of solace to her, the feeling of her salty tears on his skin cleansing away the pain and finally shattering the last remains of the wall he had created around his emotions. "Ssh," he soothed, "everything's going to be okay, Aubrey is going to be okay, we're going to be okay. I promise you, Marissa; I promise you the world."

_I don't know if I could fly a plane_

_Well enough to tail spin out your name_

_Or high enough to lose control completely_

_Honey I'm thinking maybe_

_You know, just maybe_

_Maybe._

_A/N2: Now that we have reached this point, I can reveal the inspiration for this story. Before I came up with anything else, I envisioned this scene, the scene where Ryan would come to a distraught Marissa, comfort her, and hold her tightly in a hospital bed. Blame Grey's, El, Chris, Mel, and Jacky for making me a Snow Patrol fan, and my past obsession with "Chasing Cars." Initially, that song would play in my mind as I imagined this scene, but I have a strong love for Liz Phair, too. Lately, her CD "Exile to Guyville" has been a constant companion for my CD player in my car, and this is my favorite song on the album. If you have it, listen to it again and, if not, look it up. The simple beauty of the song amazes me every time I listen to it. I just really think it fits with what Ryan's mindset would be at this point in the story: hopeful, scared, hesitant, and, yet, willing and wanting to try to be with the person he cares for. By the way, I did have to edit one word. Instead of saying "guys", I had to use "girls" for the song to make sense in this situation, for this character. I hope you all enjoy the song and, as always, I hope you enjoyed the post._

Charlynn


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Ryan Atwood was stuck in a limbo, a limbo where the past made no sense, the present was an utter confusion, and the future seemed distant and unattainable. It was as if he was frozen in place. Although he knew he didn't want to move backwards, it was impossible to move forward. Too much had happened; too much still needed to occur. Nothing had been said; apparently, neither of them had anything to say. Awkwardness pervaded his entire existence; he had never felt more comfortable in his own skin. Realizing this, Ryan recognized the fact that he was a contradiction in and of itself.

Aubrey's surgery had gone impeccably, and, within 42 hours after the operation, they were allowed to take her home. While they had been waiting for the news her procedure was over, Ryan and Marissa had been a team, working together to keep one another sane and focused. Afterwards, when all they could do was wait, they truly were parents together, taking turns watching over and observing every detail of their daughter while she slept soundly, speaking with doctors and nurses, preparing to check her out. They had even taken care of each other, making sure that they both had plenty to eat and would occasionally sleep if only for a couple of hours. However, as soon as they stepped back inside of the apartment, their system of playing off each other and complimenting the others actions fell apart. Suddenly, the only they did well in the same room was make the other stammer, blush, look away, and quickly make excuses to leave. It wasn't an uncomfortable awkwardness necessarily, but it definitely was powerful.

He could tell she was nervous around him, and, for the first time since he had met her, she was unsure of herself. Why she would be like this, Ryan had no idea. As far as he was concerned, the pressure in their relationship was all on him: he needed to make a move to bridge their past, show her he wanted to be a part of her and their daughter's future, all the while participating in their present. The problem was though that he didn't feel he deserved a second chance to be in their lives. After everything he had done to her, to them, why would Marissa ever want to give him a second chance?

Flashes of his former actions would haunt his dreams: bringing home other women to taunt her and throw it in her face that, not only, did he not want her, which had been a lie, but that he could have anyone he desired, throwing her out of his car and pulling away while she sobbed on the floor of the parking garage, yelling at her because she couldn't quiet Aubrey, imagining her in labor without him by her side with no one to hold her hand but a scared, pregnant, overwhelmed teenager, and becoming jealous over the relationship she had formed with his father, a relationship he had, at first, insisted upon. The worst memory though was the thing he regretted most. If only he had stayed with her the morning after they had met, if only he had insisted she agree to a real date, if only he would have been able to admit that day all those months before what he felt now, then Marissa would be his and Aubrey would have the family she deserved.

Fortunately, there was something motivating Ryan more than his fear of rejection and regret of the past. Whenever he would feel himself getting lost in the things he had done to wrong Marissa, she would do something to amaze him, to make him freeze in place and literally have his breath taken away in awe and admiration. Watching her, seeing her with their daughter was the most amazing thing in the world to him.

The night they had gotten back from the hospital, Ryan had volunteered to make them dinner while Marissa got Aubrey ready for bed. He was slowly starting to help take care of their daughter more and more every day, but he still did not trust himself enough to give her a bath. Before he knew it, dinner was ready, but, still, there was no sign of Marissa. He assumed she was feeding Aubrey or perhaps she had gotten sidetracked doing something else, so he went to find her. Passing by the bathroom, he heard her joyful voice permeating through the closed doorway. Curious and needing to see her and their daughter interacting, he silently pushed the door open just wide enough to peer into the softly lit room.

There, amongst dimmed lights and more bubbles than any one bathtub could hold, sat a giggling Marissa immersed in water holding Aubrey, taking a bath with her as she told her a very personal fairytale, the story of her childhood dreams. Unable to leave them alone for fear of missing even a moment of the beautiful scene, Ryan had simply slid down the wall and sat leaning up against it, his knees pulled to his chest, listening to Marissa's sweet, lulling tones, as she shared her inner most thoughts with their daughter. He knew it was wrong, that the information Marissa was sharing was meant only for Aubrey's ears, but he was mesmerized, completely lost in the mother of his child and unwilling to give her up.

There were various other moments where Ryan had been snapped from reality and transported into a world where only Marissa and Aubrey existed, as he watched her dance around the living room singing softly along to the music with the baby in her arms, as she would stop in the middle of changing her diaper to blow silly bubbles into her silky smooth, tiny belly, as they would simply stare into each others eyes when Marissa held her, utterly connected and visibly a part of each other, but nothing was as enchanting then when Marissa would paint Aubrey's scar. Every night, after their bath and before she would rock her to sleep, Marissa would prepare a canvas, just a small one, and paint a portrait of the scar stretching across their daughter's stomach in hopes of capturing its every aspect not only to remember how lucky they were to have her but to show Aubrey just how special she truly was. She had no idea he watched her every brush stroke, no idea how much those moments meant to him when he was able to observe the mother of his child nurturing, playing, loving their baby, but it was because of those tender instances of adoration and devotion that made him realize he would do whatever it took to earn Marissa's trust, forgiveness, and affection.

Marissa Cooper was waiting….waiting for a sign, an advance, an embrace, even a gesture to tell her that Ryan wanted more than to be Aubrey's father, that he wanted to be with her as well. It was crazy how she was feeling, but, instead of running away from it and denying her feelings, for the first time in her life, Marissa was ready to accept the fact that she cared for someone, that she wanted a relationship. If she was honest with herself she would admit that in her heart Ryan had always meant something to her since the moment he became a lover with an identity and not a nameless one night stand. Then she had carried his child, forming an unbreakable bond with him, and, after he had stood by her side during Aubrey's medical crisis, she would forever care for the lonely, scared, vulnerable blue eyed, blonde haired man who had so captured her attention that very first night in the club. Gone was the playboy, the rich, arrogant shell of a personality he had portrayed to the world only to be replaced with a guy she knew she was already falling for. She just hoped that he would want to catch her.

Realistically, she should hate him or at least hold a grudge; Marissa knew that, but, not only did that weigh her down and give her a heavy heart when she wanted to be light and airy, enjoying the simple pleasures of the life her daughter provided her with, but she also knew it took a bigger woman to forgive than it did to feel resentment, and that's what she wanted to be: a gracious, sympathetic, kind woman who taught her daughter to embrace love and the people in her life. She didn't want Aubrey to ever close off her heart, to ever rule out the possibility of love, to ever be alone in the world, to ever be like her before she had become pregnant. It is said that you always want what's better for your children, and Marissa was determined to present a better example of herself to the world for her child.

It was a Friday morning in July, a few days after Aubrey's surgery, and Marissa sat in front of the large, picture window in the living room sipping a soothing cup of tea despite the already sultry conditions outside of the air conditioned, cool, comfortable confines of their apartment, thinking, musing, day dreaming about the only thing she seemed capable of focusing on: Ryan and their daughter. Aubrey was taking her morning nap while Ryan was attempting to do some work in his study. Despite the fact that their daughter was now perfectly healthy and that she had caught up on her sleep and was well rested, calm, and collected again, Ryan refused to leave them alone and go back to work. She knew that he trusted her with their baby, so it wasn't that he was afraid something would go wrong if he wasn't there. Instead, it was as if he was afraid he would miss something: a new development in their daughter, a change in her appearance, the latest, simple, adorable gesture she made, or a special moment only a parent would adore and appreciate. Marissa didn't mind though; she loved having him home with them.

He was still slightly nervous when it came to taking care of Aubrey, and it was obvious she was the first baby he had ever even held. Taking that into consideration, Marissa was slowly starting to help him learn how to take care of their daughter. He could now dress and change her, put her down for her naps, and feed her when Marissa would pump breast milk for him, though that happened very rarely, because neither of them liked to leave Aubrey alone for even a few minutes. However, what Ryan was the best at was simply being with their daughter, holding, cuddling, nurturing her, reading to her, telling her stories, sharing personal conversations. The little things that he did with her meant the most to Marissa.

Two days before she had accidentally walked in on a private moment the father and daughter pair were sharing, but, no matter how often or forcefully she told herself she needed to quit eavesdropping and spying on them, she couldn't walk away. Ryan was supposed to be changing Aubrey, getting her dressed for the day, but, when Marissa peered into the bedroom she shared with their baby, he was lost in concentration, tickling her tiny, little feet and playing with her toes as Aubrey laid there, gurgling and blowing bubbles in contentment.

She would also find them watching television together all the time. Ryan would put it on the food network and proceed to discuss every recipe the chefs introduced. If Aubrey responded well to one of them, he would write it down and prepare it that evening for their dinner. When she was fussy, he would stand in front of the very window Marissa was sitting at and look out at the skyline with her; during the day, he showed her various places he went to or things she would someday probably enjoy, and, when it was night, he would tell her about the stars, promising them all to her if she was so inclined to want them. He would even hold her when he worked on his laptop, delaying his progress by using only one hand to type simply for the fact that he enjoyed having their daughter in his arms whenever he could. She seemed to put him at ease, make him feel comfortable, and, considering the fact that things were so awkward between the two of them, Marissa knew he needed that.

Her favorite moment, the moment that had given her hope that Ryan may want a future with her, too, had occurred the night before. He had been putting Aubrey to bed. Marissa had already given the little girl her bath and dressed her for him, and he was going to tell her a goodnight story. Going into her room to kiss her daughter goodnight, Marissa was surprised to see that Ryan was still reading to her, completely lost in the book and his thoughts and oblivious to the fact that Aubrey was sound asleep on his shoulder, making a very large pile of drool on his shirt. The book was all about the ocean, the water, the wildlife, the lore of the sea, and he was sharing with their daughter how he would someday soon show it to her, take her out on a boat and make a day of it, just Aubrey, him, and, of course, her Mommy, too. It would be a family outing. Sighing out of contentment, a smile lighting up her face, Marissa had slipped back down the hallway not wanting to embarrass Ryan with the knowledge that she had overheard his promise to their child and spent the rest of the night contemplating her next move.

With the sun and tea warming her slightly chilly body that morning, she knew she just needed one more small sign to reassure herself that Ryan wanted to be with her as well, and then she would take that leap of faith, she would make some grand gesture to show him how she felt, risking her heart and her piece of mind one last time. If he returned her feelings, she would have everything she wanted; if he didn't, she would be alone again….with only her daughter, his friendship, and the support of Callie and James to comfort her. She was almost positive though that he, at least, felt something for her. After comforting her in the hospital, holding her and promising her the world, and all the moments where she could almost swear he was intently watching her, Marissa just needed one more sign to know for sure. Just one more….

It was taking every ounce of Marissa's restraint not to start hysterically laughing at Ryan as she watched him struggle with everything in his arms. He had been a mess that whole afternoon as they prepared for dinner at his father's, attempting to think of every and any excuse they could possibly make to not have to go out that evening, insisting it was too soon after Aubrey's surgery for her to do anything strenuous, and, according to Ryan, a car ride and being treated like a princess by her grandfather was definitely too exhausting. She would not listen to his arguments though, pronouncing that she and their daughter were going to James's that evening whether Ryan went with them or not. That had settled it, and the next thing she knew, he was packing not one but three diaper bags full of anything Aubrey liked or could need, claiming they were all necessities. They were late leaving, because Ryan couldn't make up his mind what Aubrey should wear, picking out a ridiculous amount of clothes for one baby to wear on a stifling July evening, and, now that they were there, he would not let her carry a thing, meaning all three diaper bags, Aubrey, her carrier, and even Marissa's purse were somehow all in his arms. She had even had to convince him that she could handle ringing the doorbell herself, that he didn't have to do that, too.

"Here, let me take some of that from you," James offered as he swung the door wide open for his son, his granddaughter, and the woman he hoped to someday call his daughter-in-law. He had obviously been watching for them out the window.

"I'm fine," Ryan argued, moving past him quickly into the house, quietly talking to Aubrey the entire time as he explained where they were, who that strange man was despite the fact that she had already met him, and what they were going to be doing next, providing James with an opportunity to talk to Marissa privately.

"Is he always this extreme and ridiculous," he queried. Together, they laughed quietly. "I've never seen him so….unguarded before."

"Not to this degree," Marissa answered. "There's something going on with him tonight, and I don't think it has anything to do with Aubrey. But, no matter what, it's good to see you." She stopped talking long enough to embrace the older gentleman in a warm, friendly hug. "How was Tokyo?"

"I have no idea," he responded, smirking. "After receiving a fairly hysterical phone call the night I got there from a certain worried mother and father of a very special baby, I only left my hotel room when it was absolutely necessary for meetings, but, even then, it was very hard to concentrate on business when I knew my granddaughter was in surgery. It really would have been more practical if I would have just rescheduled my meetings and come home."

"Trust me," Marissa reassured, "I don't think the nurses would have been able to put up with even one more person worrying about Aubrey's case. They'll probably all run away if they see either Ryan or I enter the hospital ever again."

Interrupting their moment, Ryan called out, "I think I'm going to take her upstairs to a guest room and check to see if she needs changed and put some of her things up there in case we need them later."

"That's okay," Marissa argued, going to his side and taking Aubrey out of his arms. "I'll change her while you catch up with your dad." Neither of them noticed James standing behind them watching their actions intently; they were too lost in each other. Holding out her free hand for the bags, Marissa waited for Ryan to give her the supplies she would need.

"Are you sure," he questioned her, his voice soft and concerned, "I mean….I really don't want you carrying all this stuff and Aubrey up a flight of stairs."

"Ryan, I'll be fine."

"Yeah, but you just gave birth," he maintained. "What if something happens….or if it's too heavy?"

She laughed. "I gave birth five weeks ago. Trust me, I'm fine. If it would make you feel better, just give me one bag and then you can take the others up later."

Agreeing to that idea begrudgingly, he gently slid the handle of the bag up her arm and balanced the bag on her shoulder, but, once it was in place, he did not remove his hand right away. He simply let it rest there, his fingers making Marissa's skin tingle. Their eyes remained connected the entire time as everything else around them disappeared and time stood still. If it wasn't for Aubrey squirming in Marissa's arms out of complaint because they were standing still, they would have been frozen together all evening. Smiling at their daughter, Ryan leaned in to place a gentle kiss on her cheek, in the process accidentally grazing his nose against Marissa's jaw line. It was the most intimate moment she had shared with a man since the morning Ryan had left her bed after the night they had conceived Aubrey, and she never wanted it to end. Unfortunately, Aubrey needed changed, they weren't alone, and she was still slightly unsure of what Ryan wanted. Perhaps the moment had been a mistake, something he regretted, and, if so, she still needed just one more sign.

Offering Ryan a delicate smile, she turned away and gracefully alighted the stairs, cooing and teasing their young daughter the entire time she walked away from the two men so alike and, yet, so different at the same time who were watching her intently, one with curiosity, interest, and amusement displayed plainly in his grey eyes; the other with lust, desire, and something else, a feeling deeper and more true than any he had ever felt, shining brightly in his admiring orbs of blue. Too bad she didn't see either one.

The night continued in the same fashion: Ryan and Marissa would share tender, small moments of intimacy and awkwardness, totally oblivious to the man who noticed every nuance of their relationship, a pleased and relieved smile on his face. Unbeknownst to them, James was a very perceptive man, but, that evening, anyone would have been able to notice the changes in Ryan and Marissa's interaction and the passionate tension that followed them wherever they went.

When they had been shown into the dining room for dinner by the maid, Ryan, instead of James that time, insisted that he help Marissa into her chair, standing just a little too close and lingering near her body just a little too long for his actions to be considered platonic. When their hands had accidentally grazed together when they had both reached to take care of Aubrey sitting between them in her carrier resting on a chair, he had laced their fingers together for a moment a little more tightly than a friend would, only releasing his grip upon her hand to insist that she relax while he held their daughter. When it came time for their after dinner drinks in the sitting room, Ryan had sat a little too closely to Marissa to excuse his behavior as that of a protective father only wanting to be near his daughter.

As the evening was winding down, James had insisted that he hold Aubrey, and, before either Ryan or Marissa could protest he had gone off to other parts of the house, his granddaughter in his arms, to show her pictures of her Grandma Evelyn, leaving her very self-conscious and shy parents alone together. Without a word shared between then, Marissa had stood up from the couch and moved to the French doors thrown open to embrace the balmy night air, a slight breeze being carried up to the manor on the hill from the ocean below. The wind would ripple her loose fitting, light, summer dress, occasionally, billowing it out slightly for Ryan to glimpse generous portions of her tanned and toned legs; the glow of the moon would reflect off her radiant face, capturing Ryan's attention and refusing to relinquish it. But Marissa was totally oblivious to his admiring glances.

Several minutes passed before she felt a warm body move to stand behind her, and she relaxed slightly, enjoying his presence near her own. As his hand moved to rest possessively on the small of her back, Marissa found herself leaning into his touch, surprising no one more than herself. With her head on his shoulder and her eyes closed in peace and contentment, she was startled out of her dreams when she felt his breath on her cheek, heard his deep, raspy voice in her ear, and smelled the scent of his powerful, masculine cologne that was enveloping her senses and obliterating any other thoughts in her mind.

"What are you thinking about," he asked curious, needing to know everything about her.

In that moment, Marissa couldn't deny the truth any longer; she couldn't lie to him. Slowly, she opened her eyes, turning her head to gaze deeply into his own which were intently watching her. "You," she breathed out softly, seductively, simply.

There faces slowly moved closer and closer together, each of them wetting their lips out of silent anticipation and hope, their hearts beating at a matching, elevated pace. It was an endless moment that needed to be savored, an endless moment that wanted to last forever, an endless moment that was ultimately interrupted.

"I hope you don't mind," James said loudly as he waltzed into the sitting room, breaking the spell Ryan and Marissa were under and making them spring apart, "but I put a picture of Ryan's Mom in one of the bags you brought with you. I thought Aubrey might like to have a picture of her Grandma."

"I think that's a wonderful idea," Marissa agreed with him, moving to take the little girl from his arms. "In fact, I have the perfect place in mind for it."

"But right now," Ryan interrupted, "it's time or us to go home. It's past Aubrey's bedtime, which means Marissa and I are both losing sleep right now."

"Aw, the joys of parenthood," James chuckled at his son's comment. "Well, whenever the two of you need a break to get away and rest or…I don't know….just be together, alone, let me know. I'll hire a bevy of nannies, fly in Doctor Spock, and buy out all the baby supplies in the local stores in order to watch Aubrey for you. I'll even lend you my yacht for a weekend."

Shaking her head at his generosity and excess, Marissa replied, "we'll keep that in mind, thank you," while Ryan quickly left the room to grab their bags. "Maybe next week," she suggested, you could come and have dinner at our place. I know this great cook who I'm sure I could talk into making you a meal you won't soon forget."

"You have a friend in the restaurant business," James asked, interested. "Where do they work?"

As Ryan made his way back down the stairs towards the three of them, Marissa merely winked at the older man and moved towards the front door. "That's for me to know and for you figure out when I'm ready for you to," she answered mischievously.

Goodbyes were exchanged and plans were made before the little, nontraditional family made their way to their car. Marissa waited for Ryan to put Aubrey's bags in the back of the SUV he had surprised her with, insisting that she and their daughter needed a dependable vehicle to ride in, before he came to their side to take the little girl in his arms. However, instead of putting her into her car seat, he simply stood frozen in place in front of Marissa, his eyes intently focused upon her mouth. Before either of them knew what was happening, he had leaned in and gently, delicately placed a kiss upon her lips. The embrace was sweet and soft, lingering several seconds until he regretfully pulled away, blushed, and refused to look at her as he put their daughter into the car.

Sitting beside him in the front seat as Ryan drove them home, Marissa found herself sneaking glances at him every chance she got. That was it. That simple, beautiful, life-altering kiss was exactly what she had been waiting for, wishing for, hoping for. It was her sign, her one last sign that Ryan not only wanted but needed to be with her as well. _Soon_, she promised herself silently, _soon_.

This was probably a terrible idea, Marissa knew that, but she was too excited, too proud to share her daughter with the world, that she disregarded her better judgment, swallowed her pride, and called the one person who she had been waiting months to prove wrong. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled slowly as she smoothed out the classy yet stylish, confident yet comfortable, simple yet elegant outfit she had spent all morning choosing for her lunch that afternoon. Aubrey was taking her early afternoon nap, resting adorably in the cutest outfit Marissa could find, the food was prepared and ready to be served, and the table was set. The only thing missing was the guest of honor, and she was waiting patiently on the other side of the closed door to the penthouse apartment.

Opening it gracefully, Marissa smiled at the woman she had once considered her closest friend, the woman she had not seen in months since she had gone on maternity leave from work: V. "It's good to see you," she said, shocking herself at how genuine her statement sounded and felt. Perhaps, after all, they could still be friends….well that was if V could accept Aubrey and Ryan and apologize for the things she said during their fateful lunch all those months before. "Please, come in," she motioned for the slightly unsure woman to enter the lavish apartment. "Lunch is ready, so why don't I show you into the dining room."

"Listen to you," V finally commented, her eyes scanning the apartment and refusing to look at Marissa, "don't we sound like the lady of the house. I remember a time not so long ago when a dining room to you was a TV tray in your corner of your studio apartment where you squeezed in a loveseat for when you had company."

Dismissing her comment, Marissa replied. "That was a long time ago, back when I was an undergraduate. My place before this was not that small."

"True," V conceded, "but you still weren't a woman who lunched or entertained company in formal settings. What happened to the Marissa with the lists, the Marissa with a book always in her hand, the Marissa with the plans to be an independent, successful woman?"

"She grew up, became a mother, and realized her priorities were wrong."

"Or," the smug red head pronounced, "she submitted."

Breaking the tense moment, Aubrey let out a soft cry, informing her mother that she was awake.

"If you will excuse me," Marissa apologized, thankful for the interruption, "I'll just go and get her, and then, if you'll help me get everything out, we can have lunch."

Five minutes later, Marissa reappeared in the living room, a changed, smiling, and happy baby in her arms. "V, I'd like you to meet my daughter, Aubrey," she introduced. "Aubrey, this is a friend of Mommy's from work."

"And where's Daddy," V questioned arrogantly, "off at work leaving you to take care of your child alone, out goofing around with his buddies, other spoiled, arrogant, rich brats, or, even better yet, maybe he's off sleeping with other women." Locking her eyes with Marissa's, she continued. "I know all about you and your life. It's been all over the news, how L.A.'s golden boy, the heir to Atwood Industries, had a child with a nothing graduate student, and, let me tell you, your….whatever Ryan is to you,…he has quite the reputation."

"Actually, he's off running errands for me," Marissa revealed, "but he'll be back later." Bitterly, she pressed. "You have no right to judge him, because you have no idea who he is, how he treats me or our daughter, or what we've been through together. Let's just eat our lunch and change the subject. I don't think this is something we'll be able to agree on." Leading an annoyed, arrogant V into the dining room, Marissa's curt words and the silence that followed made it clear that the topic of Ryan was not to be discussed. However, she should have known better. V never gave in when she thought she was right, and that's exactly what she believed about her opinions on the subject of Aubrey's father.

Unwilling to let V get a chance to upset her again, Marissa kept up a steady stream of lively chatter, hiding her infuriation behind a constant smile. While V greedily ate the food she had no idea Ryan had prepared for him, Marissa, whose appetite had quickly diminished once she was in the company of her former friend, kept herself calm by focusing on her daughter, feeding her as she shared stories about the five week old, perfect, little girl. When the meal was over, she excused herself from the table, picking Aubrey up to take her with her, as she set coffee to roast in the kitchen. "We'll have dessert," she announced over her shoulder as she left the room, "as soon as Ryan gets here with it. Sorry he's running late."

"Oh, that's alright," V made light of Marissa's apology. "I don't find that surprising at all. It seems to be a pattern of his," she continued, smirking to herself as she played her trump card, "being undependable. I mean, come on, let's face it, a man who doesn't even take the mother of his child to the hospital, a man who lets a teenager help deliver his baby while he stays at home, a man who doesn't bother showing up to see his daughter until hours after she was born is not someone you can trust and rely upon. I don't know how you deal with such an unstable, untrustworthy father figure for your daughter."

"What," Marissa exploded, rushing back into the dining room, eyes blazing with hate and fury, "did you read that in the tabloids, too? It's funny how you only are familar with the bad things about Ryan, how you don't remember the wonderful things he's done for me and our daughter! Why don't we talk about the time when OUR daughter was in the hospital to have LIFE-SAVING surgery? Do you know that he was the one who insisted Aubrey get the proper medical care she needed and deserved? Do you know that he would only leave my side to call his father with updates, go to the bathroom, or to get something to eat when I made him leave? Do you know that he was the one who kept me together, that he didn't let me go out of my mind with worry? Do you know that when I finally ran away and broke down scared, he went after me, found me crying in a hospital room, and held me tightly as he calmed me down, promising me the world? Of course you don't, because NO ONE knows about those moments, those personal, private, precious moments that I will always be grateful for. I invited you here today because I wanted to show you that you were wrong all those months ago, that getting pregnant and having Aubrey was the best thing that has EVER happened to me, but I see that you're too stubborn and too blind to accept the truth, so get out."

"Excuse me," V questioned Marissa, shocked by her vehement order.

"I said get out!"

Watching her intently, her eyes forcing her former friend to leave the apartment as quickly as she could, Marissa followed V into the foyer where she suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. There, on the floor, sat a pink box from her favorite bakery, the cream puffs she had ordered for dessert spilled out unto the hard wood floor.

"See," V pointed out self-righteously, "undependable," before running out of the door and slamming it behind her before Marissa could say anything in response.

She knew he had walked in on their conversation, that he had entered the apartment as quietly as he could so as not to disturb them only to hear V repeat the accusations he made against himself every day, every night, every hour, every minute since he had let them into his heart, that he had ran out of the apartment, dropping the dessert in his haste to leave before he could hear Marissa's response, and now he was the one hurt. It wasn't supposed to happen yet, Marissa was not ready to show him how she felt, but she knew that if she didn't do something, if she didn't go after him and show him that she had already forgiven him for the things he had done to wrong her and Aubrey, then they might lose him forever, and that was something she could not accept.

Running quickly to the nearest phone, she dialed a number she knew by heart as quickly as she could, pacing the living room in fear. As soon as the person picked up the other line, she was speaking, not bothering with pleasantries or greetings. "I need your help, Callie" she begged. "Can you get here as soon as you can?"

After hearing her friend's yes response, she hung up the phone, dashing for her bedroom. Grabbing her keys, she slipped her shoes on and went back out to the entryway to wait for Callie to arrive. She was going after him; with no idea where to find him, Marissa Cooper was running to and not from a man, going after the only guy she had ever been with who had bothered to leave his name.

It was pitch black when Marissa pulled into the final park in Los Angeles, the final place she had hope she could find the man she had fallen, unwillingly, so hard for. The skies would occasionally be illuminated by a bright flash of lightening, the heat and humidity of the night bringing a strong, deafening storm to Southern California, and thunder would scream loudly across the otherwise silent night, its angry pronouncements of natural aggression the only company Marissa had in her search. Quickly, she ran through the park, out of breath and on edge. _What if she didn't find him? What if she was too late? What if, when she did eventually see him again, he didn't want her? _Shrugging off her dark, sinister thoughts, she pushed on, unwilling to listen to her own doubts, to heed to the weather, to give up on him.

Rounding a corner, she came upon a portion of the park set up for rollerblading, skateboarding, and, most importantly, bike riding. There were rails, half pipes, and many other pieces of equipment for extreme sports that Marissa had no idea what they were called. It was hard to see though, the dark of the night hiding everything in its shadows, and it was nearly impossible to hear anything, the tumultuous weather overriding even the sounds of a man's labored breathing, his futile attempts to perform a trick he had no business even attempting that only resulted in painful crashes, the chilling noise of metal scraping against wood. Something told Marissa that he was there though, that he was not only there, but that he also needed her.

Slowing her pace, she carefully listened for any sign of his presence, the idea that she should not be out alone in a dark and abandoned park never occurring to her. Just as she was about to give up, a bolt of lightening streaked across the sky, illuminating the night for mere seconds, but it was long enough to let her see a crumpled up, bloodied form collapsed beneath its bike and, apparently, long enough for the form to realize someone was there with him, that he wasn't alone.

"Who's there," he demanded loudly, standing up as quickly as his weary, pained body would allow. At the sight of him, Marissa gasped. His clothes were torn, his pad free knees and elbows were bleeding through the many scrapes and gashes his actions had ripped into them. Leaving their apartment hours before, Marissa, at first, had been unsure as to where she should search for him, but remembering the conversation they had shared over a week before, she thought perhaps he would go riding, attempt to lose himself in the freedom of his secret pastime. Though she had been right, she had not been expecting this. It was obvious that Ryan had been attempting to forget his emotional hurt by physically wounding himself, and she had no idea what she could say to make that ache go away. Ultimately, she wouldn't say a thing.

While lost in thought, tears of sorrow and compassion streaming down her gorgeous face, another bolt of lightning lit up the park, letting Ryan see who was standing before him just as the sky opened up and water drove down upon them in sheets of cold, wet rain. "Marissa," he screamed over the riotous combination of rain and thunder, "what are you…"

But she didn't let him finish his thought. Running across the sidewalks of the park as quickly as her lean legs would carry her, she launched herself into Ryan's arms, joining their lips together in an endless, passionate, yearning kiss, her mouth opening under the strength and longing of his own as their tongues joined together in a lustful embrace. Neither could breathe nor did they care for the lack of it. Ten months of humiliation and desire, cruelty and desperation, pain and tenderness was combined in that one embrace; words were not necessary. As they continued to kiss in the rain, Marissa forgot about her doubts and timidity, she did not care that the blood from his bruised and battered body was getting on her clothes and skin, and the haunting memories of the past floated away in the breeze. This was right, this was perfect, this was where she was supposed to be, with Ryan…forever. The thunderstorm would run its course, eventually passing along to quench the drought of another city somewhere east of L.A., the night would continue, its silence returning, but the two lovers standing in the middle of an abandoned park on a sultry, steamy July evening wouldn't notice either change in their environment. They were too lost in each other….exactly as they were meant to be.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Okay, so bad news, folks. On Wednesday, I start back to classes, and, as with every new semester, I have no idea how much free time I'll have to write. I don't think it'll be a very stressful semester, but, none the less, I doubt I'll be able to post practically everyday like I've been able to over break. We'll see though. I will write and post as often as I can. Other than that, there's not much to tell you except I hope everyone enjoys this post. It has been a long time coming. :D_

Charlynn

Chapter Eleven

"Well, Marissa, everything looks good," Doctor Griffins pronounced as she sat down at her desk to jot down a few notes concerning Marissa's appointment. It was her six week check up, and, after everything that had happened, Marissa had been expecting the worst. Hearing positive news took her by surprise. "You're healing beautifully. From start to finish your pregnancy has been text book perfect." As she turned around to face her patient, Marissa was merely sitting there on the exam chair, her gown pulled down modestly over her legs, staring at her in shock.

"You're sure everything's okay," she pressed, needing reassured. "I mean, I'm healthy, and, if I ever choose to, it's okay for me to have another baby?"

"Why wouldn't you be?"

"It's just….," Marissa stopped to laugh gleefully, "this is the first piece of good news I've had since I gave birth. Nothing's gone right."

Confused, the health profession stated, "I don't understand. I was there for your labor. Sure, you were in a lot of pain, but, honey, let me tell you, I've seen worse. And afterwards, when I checked you before you went home, you were doing fine then, too."

"Oh, it hasn't been me," Marissa explained. "It was my daughter, Aubrey. She had Pyloric Stenosis."

"Wow! That could not have been fun." Interested in the story, the doctor leaned back in her chair, making herself comfortable to listen.

Surprised, Marissa exclaimed, "you've heard of it?"

"I might not be a pediatrician, but I do have my medical license," Doctor Griffins playfully chastised her patient. "I imagine with you being a first time Mother, you were a mess."

"I was," Marissa revealed with a small laugh. Now that time had passed and she knew her daughter was healthy, she could see humor in some aspects of the tale. "I had no idea what was going on, thought I was doing something wrong, that I was a bad mother, and was just about at my wit's end when they finally discovered what she had."

"And now," the older woman pressed curiously, "has the experience ruined the idea of having more children for you?"

"Oh no," Marissa quickly answered. "I will admit that before she got a clean bill of health, I had serious doubts, but I've been reassured that what happened wasn't my fault, and what are the chances that it could happen again? Even if it does though, I'll be prepared."

"That's good to hear," the doctor smiled at the young mother, "because not all of my patients take care of themselves as well as you did. But this is the boring stuff," she changed the topic, "tell me all about that little girl of yours. I bet she's her Mommy's pride and joy."

"She's amazing," Marissa gushed, immediately reaching for her purse to pull out the sets of pictures she had already had taken of her daughter. "I swear she changes so much everyday; I don't want to even blink, because it seems as if she's going to be all grown up before I even know it. She already has her own little personality, too. Mornings, you do not mess with her. Just feed her and let her go back to sleep, but, in the afternoons, she's really playfully while at night she loves to cuddle. Obviously, that's my favorite time of day. Plus, she likes certain scents better than others when we take bubble baths, there are certain outfits that you can tell she just hates, and she has this adorable pouting look that gets her anything she wants. I swear, I don't know what I did with my life before I had her."

"I'm actually surprised you didn't bring her with you. I can't imagine Callie is watching her." Doctor Griffins was also Callie's OB-GYN as well. "After all, she could go into labor at any second."

"Oh, she's here," Marissa responded breezily, standing up and moving towards the bathroom to change back into her clothes. "She's in the waiting room with her Daddy."

Smirking to herself as she closed the door behind her, she knew she left her doctor in shock, that she would be waiting with several prepared questions for when she emerged from the bathroom. Although, at times when she didn't want to face the painful truth during her pregnancy, Doctor Griffins' interest and concern about her life had been annoying, Marissa recognized that she genuinely cared about her patients and wanted the best for them. Even though Marissa respected and even appreciated the gesture, that didn't mean she couldn't have a little fun with her.

Exiting the bathroom fully dressed, she had to do everything in her power to keep from smirking. Looking up at the older woman in front of her, Marissa knew she understood exactly what kind of game she was playing with her. "You better sit right back down," Doctor Griffins ordered, "because we have some more talking to do."

"But don't you have other patients to see, more work waiting for you," Marissa teased, sliding towards the door. "I know how busy you are, and I wouldn't want to make you run behind on your appointments."

"I'll be fine," the health professional dismissed, motioning for Marissa to sit down. "Spill. The last time I saw you when you were in the hospital, and Ryan had barely even come to see your or the baby."

"Well a lot has changed since then."

"Understatement of the decade," the doctor quipped. "Would you quit being coy and just tell me. How did this develop?"

"I really don't know," Marissa admitted, unable to keep a joyful, radiant smile off her face, her eyes shining to reflect the emotions she felt in her heart. "One minute we're fighting, and the next thing I know, he's just there for me. Aubrey was sick, and I was falling apart, but Ryan was there; he held me together, took care of me and our daughter, and made sure that she got the care she needed. I don't know what I would have done without him."

"Did you ask him to change; did you give him an ultimatum?"

"No, it was nothing like that. Actually," Marissa revealed, rolling her eyes at the memory, "there was this woman that he brought home, and she started screaming at me, because the baby was upset. The next thing I know she grabs my arm, and Ryan just loses control. It was like she just pushed him over the edge, and he snapped. Looking back, I realize there were other moments. Now, they were few and far between, but he's cared all along; he was just too scared of getting hurt to admit it."

"But you can only ignore your feelings for so long," Doctor Griffins finished for her, understanding the story, "before you have to do something about those very powerful and un-ignorable feelings." Agreeing with her, Marissa nodded her head. "So now what," she pressed, wanting to know more. "Are you two friends, just parenting Aubrey together, or is there a chance for a real relationship, a real family for that adorable daughter of yours?"

"Well, maybe this will answer your question," Marissa smiled, blushing slightly. "I need to know if it's okay to….you know." When the older woman just stared at her blankly, Marissa's blush deepened as she struggled to express her query. "Can we…Ryan and I….be together….I mean….REALLY together? Is it safe?"

"Oh, honey," Doctor Griffins couldn't help but laugh at Marissa's embarrassment, "if you should be comfortable talking to one person about your sex life, it's your gynecologist, especially if she's also your obstetrician, too. And yes, your body has healed enough that it's perfectly safe for you to have sex if you're emotionally ready. Now that, I can't tell you; you have to determine that for yourself." Standing up, she walked Marissa to the door, opening it for her as they proceeded into the hallway. "Other than that, just have fun," she added winking at her young patient. "It's definitely been a while for you, and Aubrey's going to need a younger brother or sister. You should start practicing as soon as you're ready."

The doctor was still chuckling as Marissa left her side, a deep, scarlet coloring her otherwise pale cheeks, but she soon forgot the older woman's teasing when she saw Ryan sitting in front of her, Aubrey sleeping sounded in his arms. He stood up to greet her, repositioning their daughter so that she was resting on the left side of his chest, making his right arm free to slip around Marissa's waist as they walked out together.

"So, what did she say," he asked her softly, eagerly, hopefully. Marissa knew what he was referring to.

Slipping her left hand which was holding onto him into his back pocket, she buried her face in his shoulder as they moved together to the car, leaving a gentle, seductive, lingering kiss on his neck. As she felt his grip around her tighten, Marissa knew he had understood her silent response.

It was hours later, and every excuse Marissa could offer him was used up. Dinner had been made and eaten, Aubrey bathed and put down for the night, and it was late enough that they both knew no one would be stopping over to see them, interrupting what was about to happen. She wanted to be with him, too, so badly, but she was also nervous. Was it too soon? What if she disappointed him? As Doctor Griffins had so kindly pointed out, it had been a long time since Marissa had been intimate with a man, and none of her previous experiences had meant so much. After all, they had all been one night stands….well except for Ryan, but this time she wasn't going to be having sex to escape her life; she was going to be making love to the man she had fallen for months before, the man who was the father of her child, the man who, secretly, she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. But that was another problem. What if Ryan didn't feel the same way; what if sleeping with him, giving that portion of her heart to him would only open her up to more pain? It was a risk she had, up to that point in her life, been unwilling to take, but as she peered out of the corner of the eye at the man beside her, his hands immersed in a sink of dirty dishes as they worked together to clean up their mess from dinner, she realized it was a risk she wanted to take. She was just scared.

"What was that look for," Ryan's voice interrupting her thoughts made her jump. If she hadn't been so nervous she would have recognized the teasing quality to it.

"What look?"

"Don't play innocent with me," he replied, wiping off his hands and moving away from the sink to stand behind her while she continued to dry the dishes he had already washed. "I saw you sneaking a glance at me just now."

"I….I wasn't," she stammered, flushing in mortification at being caught. "I was making sure that you got all the food off of that plate. It's no fun to rewash something when it has food stuck on it."

"Well then I'll hire you a maid," he dismissed her fake concerns. Her body tensed as she felt him mold his to her own, his hands moving to slip under her shirt as his lips whispered along her exposed neck, tickling and tantalizing her. "Come on, let's go to bed. This is boring, and I have better things, things that more entertaining, in mind for us to do."

Still worried about what they were going to do, she protested faintly, his assault on her senses already weakening her argument. "But the dishes…."

"….will be here in the morning when we get up. Come on, Aubrey's sound asleep, we're alone, we should be taking advantage of this situation and not putting it off for unimportant chores."

When she went to protest again, she felt Ryan turn her around in his arms, and, looking up into his eyes, his amazingly blue eyes that were solely focused upon her, their depths betraying the things he felt that he just couldn't say, she was lost, and she didn't want to be found. This, she realized, being with him, made sense, and, in that moment, her fears started to subside to be replaced with a pleasure and a yearning she had never felt before.

"I know you're scared," Ryan said softly, bringing his forehead to rest against hers, "and I'm scared, too. Hell," he admitted with a self-deprecating smirk, "this is the first time I've ever done this where it means something. That definitely puts some added pressure on a guy."

"And," she added, smiling smugly at how well she had grown to know and understand him, "this is also the first time you'll be completely sober. What if things just don't work the right way when you're not tipsy? Perhaps I should open a bottle of wine…."

She went to move away from his arms, but he pulled her back to him, tickling her in the process and making her giggle. The moment was exactly what they needed to break the tension between them.

"You aren't going anywhere," he insisted, kissing her lips softly. "And your teasing," Ryan continued once he pulled away from her, feeling proud of himself when he saw her lashes fluttering from bliss and heard her slight moans of complaint when he separated their mouths, "it's really not funny."

"I got a few giggles from it," she admitted, taunting him, but, before she could say anything else, he moved in and captured her lips again in an endless, shiver inducing kiss.

"No more talking," he demanded, his words mumbled against their joined mouths.

Sighing in contentment, she agreed, "no more talking, just this….a lot more of this."

Shocking her, Marissa felt Ryan slip his hands up under the loose fitting shorts she was wearing to cup her derrière, squeezing it softly. Taking the silent invitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him even closer to her, her fingers entwining delicately with the shaggy ends of his blonde hair that hung down onto the back of his neck. Before she knew what was happening, Ryan had lifted her up, her long, bare legs going to straddle his strong torso as he blindly led them out of the kitchen and towards his bedroom, their journey there anything but smooth and gentle.

Unwilling to part their mouths, their tongues searching and tasting the other, neither could see where they were moving. When they would bump into a wall, Ryan would press her up against it, melding their two separate bodies into one as if he needed to feel her as close as possible. If they accidentally walked into a table, he would rest her against it, his hands leaving her backside to explore other equally tempting and supple parts of her body, the movements of his fingers against her silky smooth skin eradicating any thought in Marissa's mind other than her desire for him. By the time they reached his bedroom, their bodies were slick with sweat, their hearts racing out of anticipation, their breathing erratic from the release of their passion.

Suddenly, as Ryan gently laid her body down, his entire demeanor changed; he became thoughtful, tender, loving as if he was in awe of her. Slowly, he took his time undressing her body, revealing every fine distinction and facet of it to his greedy eyes. Months before they had shared their bodies with each other, but this time they were starting a relationship, sharing not only their bodies but also minds, hearts, and souls with their partner.

Waiting for him, her entire being bare and exposed, Marissa threw her head back in ecstasy as his lips and hands teased and enticed her senses into a state of euphoria she had never experienced before. As he entered her slowly, his actions soft and delicate, she felt a wave of emotion overwhelm her. Unable to express how she felt in words, the feelings she felt for the man moving sensually inside of her found a release in a single tear of devotion, trust, and hope. Their gazes locked together as one, Ryan saw her voiceless illustration of her ardor and leaned down to kiss the salt tinged droplet away. In that moment, in that simple, meaningful, compassionate moment, Marissa realized this was what she had waiting and wishing for her whole life, that Ryan and their daughter were quickly becoming her whole, entire world.

Pulling him down to rest his body against hers for he had been supporting his weight with his powerful arms, their chests pressed together tightly, she opened herself up to him, taking him in deeper and rocking her hips to meet his own actions. Their pace was unhurried, serene, graceful. Being together, finally admitting their feelings in a physical expression, was something to be cherish, something they wanted to linger and delay as long as possible in order to enjoy every possible moment of rapture. By the time their senses came to a culmination and their bodies came to the pinnacle of their fulfillment together as one, they were both exhausted and completely satisfied.

Rolling over to rest on his back, Ryan pulled her closely to him, placing gentle kisses along her bare, glistening shoulders before bringing her body to lie on top of his. "Thank you," he whispered into her ear, the low, husky quality of his voice betraying his emotions, "thank you for forgiving me, for giving me a second chance."

"Thank you for wanting one," Marissa replied, punctuating her words by taking his lips in a decadent and lasting kiss before snuggling her body into his, her head resting protected on his chest.

It was a moment they wanted to last forever, to cherish, to savor, but it was not meant to be like that. Not even five minute after they relaxed into each others arms, the soft, beautiful cry of their daughter could be heard over the baby monitor resting on Ryan's nightstand.

"I'm sorry," Marissa apologized, immediately moving to stand up and go to Aubrey.

"Hey," Ryan corrected her, making her lay back down, "there's nothing to be sorry about. Stay here, I'll go and get her. She probably just misses her Mommy and Daddy."

With a gracious, warm smile lighting up her glowing face, Marissa watched as the man she had just completely shared herself with climbed out of bed to slip on his boxers, walking away from her to comfort their daughter. Never had he appeared more attractive in her eyes.

Seconds later, he reentered the room, a gurgling, content Aubrey cradled affectionately in his arms. Sliding back into bed, he moved their daughter to rest on the left side of his chest as he pulled Marissa to lean against his right. Feeling him place a tender kiss against her forehead, she closed her eyes to fall asleep, realizing Ryan was taking care of both of his girls, her and their daughter, and it felt perfect.

There was a dull, slightly annoying buzzing noise ringing in Marissa's ears as she tried to sleep. She knew she should get up and see what it was about, but she was just too comfortable, too at peace, too happy to disturb the private sanctuary that Ryan's bedroom had become for the three of them. Dragging her into reality though, Ryan's voice, soft so as not to disturb Aubrey who was still sleeping on his chest, broke through her wall of sleep.

"Hey," he told her gently, "it's for you. I think it's Callie, but she seems….different, off some how." Lifting his arm that had been securely wrapped around her, he helped her sit up, handing the phone to her once she was ready for it.

"Callie," Marissa asked anxiously, "what's wrong? It's like….," she glanced over that the alarm clock on the nightstand, "three o'clock in the morning."

"Yeah, it's three o'clock in the morning," the teenager bit back, harshly, "and you're obviously with Ryan right now, because he answered the phone and I could hear him waking you up. You slept with him, didn't you?"

Calmly, Marissa replied, "yes, I did, and we can talk all about it later, but I really don't think you called to check in on our sleeping arrangements, and, if you did, I'm going to start turning the phone off at night. Is the baby okay; are you okay?"

"We're fine," the younger woman dismissed, breathing heavily. "You're not getting out of this discussion that easily. I want details….NNNOOOWWWW!"

"Oh my god," Marissa finally grasped, scrambling out of bed only to realize that she was still very much naked, "you're in labor." Grabbing a loose blanket, she draped it around her as she quickly moved about the room looking for her clothes that Ryan had scattered everywhere. "Stay right there, remember your breathing techniques, and I'll be there as son as I can. I just…" she explained hopping around clumsily as she tried to put her shorts on with one hand while still holding onto the phone and the blanket with the other, "need…to…..get…." Breathlessly, she collapsed into a heap on the floor, bruised and embarrassed. Before she could say anything else though, the phone was snatched from her hand, and, gazing up, she saw a boxer clad Ryan, holding a sleeping Aubrey in his arms while he talked to a very distracted, hormonal, and demanding Callie on the phone for her.

"She needs to get dressed first," Ryan explained evenly, calmly, "but as soon as is, she'll be there. Can you wait fifteen minutes, or do you need me to call an ambulance for you?"

Although Marissa couldn't hear her friend's response, she knew it was something sarcastic and cynical when an amused smile flashed across Ryan's face. "Alright then," he teased Callie, "I'll take that as a no." Tossing the phone aside when he was finished, he gave Marissa his hand to help her up, speaking softly to her the entire time. "That friend of yours, she's got quite the dirty mouth on her when she's in pain and annoyed. You might learn some new curse words before you're finished with the day." Changing his tone, he asked her, "do you want me to go with you, to help? We can either bring Aubrey with us, or, if you don't want to take her out, I'm sure my Dad would come up and sit with her."

"No," Marissa answered him, a serene and happy smile on her face as she led him back to the bed, "I'll be fine. Stay here, let Aubrey get a good night's sleep. Besides," she added smugly, "I have a feeling she's not the only one who's tired. You put on quite the performance earlier."

"I do what I can," he teased her smugly, grinning when she pushed him back onto the bed. "But what about you; you're about to go into the lion's den with only a few hours of sleep. I don't want you exhausting yourself."

"She needs me, Ryan," Marissa pointed out softly. "She has no one else, and I want to be there for her. However, that said, when I come back sore, tired, and cranky, don't worry, I'll let you take care of Aubrey for me while I sleep for about a week." Laughing at his slightly scared expression, she leaned down, finally dressed in the shorts and t-shirt she had been wearing before, and placed an unhurried, lingering kiss on his lips. "I'll call you later, let you know how things are going." Slipping out the door, she spoke one last time. "Tell Aubrey I love her when she gets up," and, with that, she disappeared into the night.

It was late the next night when Marissa finally got the chance to call Ryan, and she knew he would be worried about her for there were several messages from him on her cell asking her to call him as soon as she got them. Slowly, she positioned her tired body to rest on the curb of the sidewalk outside of the hospital. Callie had been in labor for a few hours before they had arrived, but it had still taken twenty-two hours for her son to be born, and Marissa was exhausted. She hadn't slept since the few hours she had gotten with Ryan the night before. Dialing the all too familiar number of the apartment, she waited on the line to hear his deep, soothing voice.

"Hey, did I wake you?"

"No," he yawned, his words making her smile, "I was waiting up to hear from you. What took you so long to call?"

"I just got out of the delivery room," she answered. "The women in Callie's family are known for long labors and big babies, and, let me tell you, she didn't disappoint on either front."

"So, how is she and…."

"Austin Beaumont Edwards. Apparently you can take the girl out of Texas, but you can't take Texas out of the girl. But, other than being sick of me teasing her, Callie and her son, all thirteen pounds, two ounces of him, are doing well."

"You've got to be kidding me," Ryan exclaimed. Marissa could tell he was suddenly wide awake. "That little thing pushed out a kid that's probably an eighth of her own size, and she lived through it. How is that even possible?"

"I don't know," Marissa giggled. She, too, was surprised by how well Callie had gotten through labor, "but she did. Oh, Ryan, you should see him. He's so short, only 19 inches long, and he's the chubbiest baby I've ever seen. His legs and arms have these little dimples and rolls, and he's completely bald, but he's so cute. I told Callie I'm going to sneak him home before she wakes up."

"I know a little girl who would be very jealous," Ryan responded, teasing her. "She has not been a happy camper without you."

"Aw, has she been fussy," Marissa asked concerned.

"A little," he acknowledged, "and I think she definitely missed the bubble bath you two take together every night. I know I did."

"What….how do you….you little voyeur," Marissa yelled at him. "You watch me when I take a bath."

"All the time."

Determinedly, she declared, "that's either going to stop or you're just going to have to join us."

"I don't take bubble baths," Ryan pronounced, his tone adamant.

"Well, we'll just see about that. How's the milk supply," Marissa changed the subject. "The nurses said you stopped by and picked up what I had pumped for you."

"We're fine," he reassured her. "There's enough here to last her another day and a half, but you'll be home before then, won't you?"

"Yeah, I'm going to stay the night with Callie, but she understands that I need to leave in the morning, so she'll just call me when she gets released so I can help her and Austin home."

"Will they be okay by themselves," Ryan asked. She loved that he was concerned for her friend if only because Callie meant something to her. "You know, I could make some calls, find her a good nanny, someone who could get the apartment ready for them and who could stay there for a few weeks while she adjusts to motherhood."

"That's so sweet of you to offer," Marissa gushed, proud of him, "but she'd never accept it from you."

"Well then we'll tell her it's from you."

"She knows that I couldn't afford to do that, so she wouldn't believe me. We'll just have to help her out the best we can. You can cook her food, and I'll take it to her. She's still a little feisty, so if you showed up on her doorstep, I'm not quite sure you'd make it back in one piece. I can also help her with the baby whenever I can. Everything will be okay."

"And what about school," Ryan pressed seemingly on a roll with his newfound streak of concern. "She needs to go back and finish high school in the fall, but how will she be able to complete her senior year with a newborn? Then, after that, she'll have college…."

Stifling a laugh, Marissa appeased him. "I don't know what she'll do, but we'll help her figure it out. As for right now, I'm starving, and I promised Callie I'd be back soon, so I need to hang up so I can go to the cafeteria before heading up to her room."

"Or I could whip something up for you," Ryan offered. "It wouldn't take me long. I could be there in half an hour with a home cooked meal."

"But you'd have to wake Aubrey to bring it to me. Stay at home, give our daughter a kiss for me, and get some sleep. Remember, buddy, when I get back tomorrow, you're still on baby duty while I recuperate."

"Yeah, yeah," he mocked her words, "you'll probably monopolize Aubrey from the moment you walk in the front door."

"I've got to go, Ryan. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning."

"We'll be waiting," she heard him tell her quietly as she flipped her cell shut. Marissa couldn't wait to get home, and, because of that, she knew the night was going to drag on forever.

"Where's my baby," Marissa demanded as she stepped into the foyer of their apartment just as the clock struck seven. As she had promised, she was early. However, unlike what she had been expecting, Ryan and Aubrey were not standing there waiting for her. Walking further into the living space, she noticed that it was spotlessly clean, not a book, not a pillow, not a picture frame out of place. Smiling to herself, she realized just how bored Ryan had been without her there with him: he had voluntarily cleaned the whole apartment. "Ryan," she called out, her voice curious instead of demanding as it had been a moment before, "where are you?" Softly to herself, she remarked, "you can't be asleep still. There's no way Aubrey hasn't gotten you up to feed and change her yet." But still, there was no response, no one in sight.

Moving slowly down the hall towards her and the baby's room, she pushed the door open. Immediately, panic seized her. Staring at a room that was now just a nursery, all traces of her presence gone, Marissa felt her legs go weak underneath her as she started to collapse onto the floor.

"Hey," Ryan's voice called out softly from behind her, his arms moving to wrap themselves around her waist in order to support her. "You okay there?"

"Where's…..where's my stuff," she whispered out hoarsely, tears of alarm and fear clouding her vision.

"Yeah, about that," he answered, leading her down the hallway towards the closed door of his bedroom, "we need to talk. This arrangement we made months ago, Marissa, well," he admitted shrugging his shoulders in an unsure manner, "it's not working out for me any longer, so the deal's off. You see, we agreed that our personal lives would remain just that, personal, but now that we've crossed that line, things need to change, and you need to move." She struggled to make him release his grip upon her, but his arms would not budge. Unable to talk, the anguish she was experiencing too cruel and raw, Marissa could do nothing but let the tears fall from her eyes. "So, I took the liberty of doing it for you," Ryan revealed, opening the door to his room.

There, in front of her wet and red eyes, was a transformed space, a place that was meant to be shared by the both of them. While some elements of Ryan's old bedroom remained, her possessions, things she loved and cherished, were spread around the large, grand space making it theirs together and not just his. It was such a big step, such an important gesture, that she couldn't take it all in, couldn't appreciate all the work he had put into even the very last detail.

"Aubrey and I discussed it while you were gone," he kept talking, "and she said that you were cramping her style and taking over all the space in the nursery. And, since my room is bigger and I kind of like the idea of you crowding me, we figured it would be a better fit for you to share the master bedroom with me while we leave her with her own, smaller room. That is….if it's okay with you?"

Turning around in his arms, Marissa moved to kiss him, but, instead, she bit his bottom lip and urged his face closer to hers. "Don't you ever do that to me again," she ordered, tugging roughly on his lip, "or you will be sorry."

"If this is your idea of punishment," Ryan mused to himself, suddenly, picking her up to hold her in his arms, "then I might be bad more often. However," he changed the subject, his voice softening in concern, "you have to be exhausted, so I'm going to tuck you into bed."

"But wait," Marissa complained, craning her head to look around the room, "where's my baby girl?"

"She's spending the day with her Grandpa….and Dot, Gladys, Rose, Susan, and, last but not least, Norma."

"Do I even want to know," she asked exasperatedly, rolling her eyes.

"Probably not, but Aubrey's in good hands….all ten of them."

Amidst her peals of mirth, Ryan carried Marissa to what had become their bed, gently placing her down so he could pull the covers over her. Dropping a light kiss onto her cheek, he went to leave her alone, but her soft voice stopped him. As she watched him turn back around, Marissa smiled, scooting over in the king sized bed, and patting the space right beside her.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Um….I don't know, to do some work, maybe watch a little TV," he replied, confused. "Don't you want to go to sleep?"

"More than anything," she conceded, "and that's why you need to come lay with me." Sitting up in bed, she quickly stripped her clothes off, only reclining back down when Ryan, also, suddenly, in nothing, was beside her. Relaxing her body into his, her eyes immediately drooped closed out of sheer exhaustion as soon as she felt his arm encircle her waist and pull her closer. Before she knew, Marissa was asleep, the man beside her merely laying there, silently, at peace, watching her. Finally, she was home.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

There were towering tress strung with twinkling, white lights and festive bulbs in every room, each one decorated with a different theme, there were guiding candles in every window, their beacons welcoming all who visited the manor on the hill, there were fireplaces aglow with amber, copper, and the occasional burst of cerulean flames, and there were warm, gracious smiles on every face as Ryan Atwood glanced around the sitting room of his Father's home. They were gathered to celebrate, not the holiday season that was quickly approaching, but the accomplishments of his girlfriend, the mother of his eighteen month old daughter. That evening Marissa had graduated with honors as she received her Masters degree, and no one was prouder of her accomplishments than him.

Glancing around the room, his expression softening even more with each person he saw, Ryan realized what he had to do: he needed to make his life permanent. As his Dad sat with Callie giving the high school senior unsolicited yet sound advice about her future and college, Marissa sat on the floor, totally oblivious to the fact that she was supposed to be celebrating. Instead, she was happily playing with their little girl and Callie's son, the two children practically inseparable. She applauded their accomplishments, laughed at their amusing games, and comforted them when they became upset. She was the epitome of a woman and a mother, and Ryan could not believe, even after being with her for almost seventeen months, that she was his, that she had forgiven him, accepted him, and loved him despite his flaws. To amaze him even more, she had given him the most important things in his life: their daughter and her friendship and devotion.

"Hey Ryan," he was snapped out of his thoughts as he heard Marissa's voice call for him. Looking up at him from her position on the floor, her eyes soft with contentment, she asked, "will you help me take the kids upstairs so we can get them changed into their pajamas for the ride home? I think they'll be more comfortable like that, and they'll also be ready for bed."

Quickly, his gaze flashed up to meet his Father's, a quick, silent word passing between them. While Marissa didn't notice, Callie, ever the constant observer, did.

"Actually, Marissa," James offered, "I think I'll go with you instead. I'd like to spend some quality time with my granddaughter."

"Alright," she responded hesitantly, her eyes looking between her boyfriend and his father, slightly suspicious. Before anything else could be said though, Ryan was at her side to help her stand. As James picked up Austin, Ryan bent down and retrieved their daughter, passing the little girl into her arms after brushing a gentle kiss on her cheek. "We'll be right back," Marissa told him softly. Looking to her teenage friend, she warned, "play nice, you two," her tone, while teasing, carrying a certain, discernable sincerity. Walking out of the room, she joined James who was already moving up the stairs.

He didn't even have to turn around to know that Callie was watching him intently. He could feel her eyes burning into him. "So, she started as he moved to look at her, "what exactly are you up to?"

"I….uh….what," Ryan stammered, nervously. Although she and Marissa had only seemed to grow closer as time went on and she had become like family for James, his relationship with the young, blunt girl had barely progressed. While he was always nervous around her, memories of their first conversation haunting him, she was cold, distant, never quite able or willing to forget his past mistakes.

"Don't play dumb with me," she told him candidly. "I saw the look pass between you and your father. You want something, and, judging by the way you're acting, you're not too sure what my answer will be."

"Was I that obvious," he questioned, his anxiety only growing. "Do you think Marissa noticed?"

"Let's just say that if your performance there was subtle, then I would be considered quiet and un-opinionated. Now, quit being coy and don't try to tiptoe around the subject; just be direct and straight forward. I'll respect that more. What's going on?"

"Spill," Marissa ordered James as they proceeded up the stairs together, each holding one of the toddlers.

Confused, he asked her, "what?"

"I'm not dumb or self involved or totally oblivious, and I would have to be not to notice your little secret code sharing back there with Ryan. Either you wanted to talk to me alone about something he approved of, or he's up to something, and, because he voluntarily stayed in the same room with Callie alone, it must be something big."

"Did anyone ever tell you that you're too suspicious," James teased her. "What happened to trust and faith?"

"I have trust and faith….in my own intelligence and intuition. The simple fact that you're avoiding my questions is proof enough that there is something going on. So, let me repeat this one last time: spill."

"Alright, fine," he conceded. James could never deny Marissa anything. "I'll admit that after dinner Ryan came up to me and asked that, if an opportunity arose, he wanted to talk to Callie alone. No matter what I would do or say, he wouldn't tell me what it was about though. Don't get me wrong, I have my own ideas, but that's just speculation. However, I would never turn down a chance to spend some time with you, especially when we have a very important discussion ahead of us."

Feigning perplexity, she retorted playing, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

He just ignored her mock bewilderment. "You've been putting me off for two years, telling me you wanted to focus on your pregnancy, invest all your time into raising your daughter and getting your Masters, but Ryan's there to help you with Aubrey and that M.B.A. is sitting proudly at the end of your name now. When will you come and work for me?"

"We've been over this a thousand times already, James. What would you want with a dietician? You don't grow, make, package, ship, or sell food. You don't own any restaurants nor do you intend to invest in any."

"Hell no, the restaurant business is unstable at best," he interrupted her. As they turned the corner to make their way down the hall, he missed her slight frown at his comment. "Listen, Marissa," he argued with her, "I understand that technically what you're trained to do I have no use for, but you're smart, savvy, astute, and you have great instincts. Atwood Industries is a family owned and operated business, and you're, as far as I'm concerned, family and always will be. I want the three of us, you, me, and Ryan, to work side by side. You could bring Aubrey to work with you, so you'd never have to leave her with strangers, not to mention you'd get to spend all your time with your two favorite men in the whole world."

Teasing him, Marissa joked, "Ben and Jerry work for you! I didn't know that."

"You're not going to listen to anything I have to say, are you?" Smirking, she shook her head no. "And there's nothing I can do to persuade you?"

"Actually," she ventured timidly, tearing her eyes away from her daughter as she was changing her into her pajamas, "I could be influenced into making a deal with you."

"A good business man always listens to the proposal before he makes a decision. Tell me about this deal of yours."

"For now," she began slowly, "I want to try it on my own first, to see if I can get a job with my credentials and not the fact that I'm the mother of your granddaughter. I want to get promotions based upon my work and not because I live with your son. I want to know that I can be a success without someone holding my hand and coddling me. However, that said, mainly for the charitable opportunities working for you offers, I am interested in a job someday. So, if here and now I promise you that someday I will be an employee of Atwood Industries, I want you to do something for me in return."

"I'll probably live to regret this," James admitted his slight reluctance, "but, for you, anything. Tell me what you want me to do."

"I want you to let Ryan be himself." When he looked at her with a look of wonder and uncertainty on his face, she explained further. "He's just…he's not you. He has his own hobbies that don't include golf, poker, and smoking cigars with the good old boys at the club; he has his own dreams that aren't to run a fortune 500 company, and, even though I know he would never say anything to you because he desperately wants your approval no matter what he says or does to the contrary, I couldn't sit back and just watch him give up on those dreams to please you. Now, he has no idea that I'm talking to you about this and, if it's okay with you, I'd like to keep it that way. Cut his strings; give him a chance to do something on his own, to become his own success out of your shadows. You have to see that he's not happy working for you. It just….doesn't interest him. In the long run, I think it'll make the two of you closer."

"He tells you things, doesn't he," James realized, not answering her request yet. "He confides in you."

"Well, I'd hope so. We are in a long term relationship together and have a daughter."

"He's never confided in me. His mother, yes, he told her everything," he revealed, picking up a changed Austin and moving to sit in one of the nursery's rockers to feed him his last bottle while Marissa did the same thing with an almost asleep Aubrey, "but after she passed away, he stopped talking. He closed himself off emotionally and lived on autopilot. There was a time there, before you came into his life, where I feared he would never let another person in, that he would be alone for the rest of his life."

"I didn't do anything," Marissa pointed out. "Nothing would have ever happened between us, he wouldn't have let go of the past if it wasn't for Aubrey. She's the one who really changed him, and I'm grateful for that everyday."

"No, I disagree with you," James argued. "I'm not a naïve man. I never, not even for a second, believed the pile of lies you two told me at the very beginning. It was obvious then that you weren't together, just as it was obvious when things changed between you. Now, how and why that happened, that's none of my business, but I can assure you that my son already cared about you the first time we met. Ryan was always indifferent towards everyone, not in a cruel or spiteful way, but he just didn't pay any attention to them. He was never able to ignore you, and it's because he felt something that he tried to push you away, why he was probably insensitive, callous, even malicious towards you. Aubrey or no Aubrey, Ryan is in love with you for who you are and not the fact that you're the mother of his child. And for that," he finished, smiling warmly at her, "I'll give you my word that I will let my son be his own man, make his own mistakes, pave his own path in the world."

Reaching across the space between them, she clasped the older man's hand in hers, squeezing it tightly. "Thank you."

"Okay, well now that you're happy with me, I have a little confession." Marissa looked at him closely, narrowing her eyes in mock annoyance. "I do know a little something more about what's going on downstairs."

"I thought so!"

"These two little rugrats are staying here tonight, so that you and Ryan can have some alone time."

Puzzled, Marissa queried, "why would Austin have to stay here as well then?"

"Oh, that's for my own plan. I figured if I could get him to fall asleep here, then Callie wouldn't be as difficult to persuade into staying. She and I need to have a little discussion," he divulged, winking at his younger, female counterpart. "She's going to be a second semester high school senior in less than a month, and that girl has no clue about what she wants to do with her life. If it's the last thing I do this holiday season, I'm going to have her applied to at least three colleges that have her prospective major."

"But she doesn't know what she wants to major in yet," Marissa's voice trailed off when James' eyes lit up excitedly.

"You said the key word," he retorted with audacity, "yet. By the time I'm done with her, she'll have her whole future planned. Now come on," he stood up motioning for her to do the same, "I think these two are sufficiently asleep. Let's put them down for the night and then go and try to figure out what my son, your boyfriend, is up to. I have a sneaky suspicion it's about you."

Laughing softly along with him, Marissa stood up and placed her daughter in the empty crib, bending down to place a gentle, loving kiss on her forehead, whispering, "sweet dreams, princess," before slipping delicately out the door.

Ryan had shared his plan with Callie, and now he was waiting for her response, her approval. Minutes passed, agonizing moments of insecurity for him, as she contemplated her answer. He sat there waiting and watching as she paced the length of the sitting room. It was ridiculous that he cared so much about what she thought, that he was seeking her blessing, but he knew that if he could convince Callie of the sincerity of his feelings for Marissa, if he could make her forgive him for the past, then he could finally forgive himself and move on, and he needed that before he could take his next step.

Finally, looking at him pointedly, Callie responded. "I'll help you if you answer a few questions for me, and don't even try to avoid them by skirting around the issue. You lie or keep something from me just once and our deal is off."

Resolutely, he replied, "ask me anything. I have nothing to hide."

"Oh, I doubt that," she laughed at him, "and, to be frank, there are a lot of things I NEVER want to know about you. The only things I'm concerned about are those that affect Marissa and Aubrey. That said, why do you want to do this? Are you honestly in love with her, or is this merely for convenience sake? You had to make it appear as if you were in a relationship with her to please your father, why not convince her that you felt something to make it easier, more believable?"

"Do you honestly believe that?" When Callie merely shrugged her shoulders waiting for him to answer her question, he sighed but continued. "I can tell you over and over again that I love Marissa, but you're never going to believe me, because you don't trust me…as you shouldn't. However, you trust her, and I know for a fact that Marissa knows that I love her, that she doesn't doubt it for a second. So, instead of taking my word for it, have faith in your friend's ability to have faith in me."

"You do know you don't deserve her, your daughter, or their forgiveness, don't you?"

"Oh, trust me, that's something I'll never be able to forget." Sitting down onto a chair, Ryan roughly ran his hands through his hair before looking back up at the teenage woman with so much wisdom standing across from him. "Not only did I hurt her over and over again, but I threw away months of my life that I could have been with Marissa, I missed her entire pregnancy, and I sat back and watched my daughter for weeks, refusing to be a part of her life. I'll never get that time back, those tears that I made Marissa cry, but I'm trying to make up for it now. They're my life, and I will do anything to make them happy."

Surprising Ryan, Callie spoke softly. "She hurt you, too, though. I was there; I saw it with my own eyes, so you can't deny it. When she said you meant nothing to her, that you were merely a distraction she used for one night, that she didn't want you to be a part of your daughter's life, you were hurt. And then, she picked me for her Lamaze partner, a random, teenage girl she had never met before over the father of her child. She called me to help her during labor. She avoided you when she returned from the hospital, preferring to take care of her sick daughter on her own instead of lowering herself to ask for your help. Those are things you'll never forget either."

"But I deserved those things," Ryan whispered softly. "In my eyes, she did nothing wrong."

"Perhaps so, but don't you think that Marissa has regrets, too. However, she's moved past hers and made peace with them. You'll only truly be worthy of her when you do the same."

He thought about this idea for it had never occurred to him before. Despite his own doubts, Callie's argument made sense, even to him, except for one fact. "If you can't forgive me and forget what I did, then how am I supposed to?"

Before she could mask it, he saw a brief flash of respect spring into her eyes. After months of never arguing with her, of listening to everything she said without a word, of trying to show her respect, the first time he turned her advice back on her and opposed her stance on something was the first time he had seen any evidence that they could indeed be friends. If she preferred boldness over compliance, someone who would give as good as they got, he could do that.

Finally, after pondering his question, she responded. "Very well then, you're right. It's been a year and a half, and you've done nothing to hurt Marissa or make me think you ever will during that time. But I need you to answer me one last question." When he simply nodded to show her to proceed, she pressed. "When did you actually fall in love with her?"

"I really don't know," Ryan admitted, immediately his mind falling back into a multitude of memories, "because for a long time I pushed my feelings aside and tried to ignore them. I can remember moments where I would let myself care, but, within minutes, I'd shut down again, scared of the consequences of giving her that power over me. There was this night when she had first moved in. I had this other woman there, just another one night stand in a long line of them, and she made Marissa mad. When she finally exploded and fought back, she was so sarcastic and cynical, I couldn't help but laugh and proceeded to piss off the random. Looking back, if I had to pinpoint exactly when I started to care, I would say it was then. After that, there were so many things that made me realize my feelings for her: seeing her asleep when she was just starting to show, the framed picture of her first sonogram, holding her hand, how she would curl her body up into a little ball when she was cold, watching her paint, seeing her breast feeding Aubrey, when she would just listen to me without judging or imposing her own ideas, the moments when she finally let her walls down and trusted me enough to confide her deepest feelings to me, watching her take bubble baths with Aubrey, noticing every little detail about her face for the first time; and by the time I realized how much these little moments meant to me, she was there, in the rain, saving me from myself, and from that moment on, I was lost."

"That was just….you are just….," she struggled to talk making Ryan believe she was so impressed with his declaration that she was at a loss for words until she laughed suddenly before finishing her statement, "so whipped! I've never heard anything as sappy as that….ever!"

Immediately, he blushed, turning away from her in embarrassment. "Thanks, Callie," he complained, "way to boost a guy's ego when he's about to take the biggest step of his life. I'm definitely confident now after your little pep speech."

Shaking her head to ward off her mirth, she reassured him. "You'll be fine, Ryan. Just don't do anything too cheesy, because, remember, this will eventually be told to not only me but your children someday, too."

"Children," Marissa spoke up as she entered the room, "do you know something I don't Miss Edwards?"

Ryan immediately turned around to look at her, his eyes growing large with worry that she had overheard something she shouldn't have, while Callie merely chuckled at both of their expressions, enjoying the comedy as it unfolded around her. James also had an amused twinkle in his eye though he did not know all the details.

"You might not be pregnant again," Callie finally spoke, making everyone's attention turn towards her, "but the night is still young."

"Speaking of which," Ryan took his opportunity, standing up and moving quickly to Marissa's side before she could say something smart back to her friend, "we should be going. Do you need a ride home, Callie?"

"Actually Callie's staying here tonight," James spoke for her.

Caught off guard, she questioned him, "I am?"

"You are," he returned without a moment's hesitation leaving no room for her to argue. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to walk Ryan and Marissa out and then, when I get back, you and I young lady have some thing to discuss." And just like he said, the celebration ended and the party separated into two groups to continue on with their night.

"Ryan," Marissa whined becoming impatient. He had been playful and flirty the whole way home from his Father's, so she had assumed they would barely make in the door before they would attack each other on their way to the bedroom….or some other sex-possible location. After all, it wasn't every night that they had the apartment to themselves to be as loud and as wild as they wanted. However, he had insisted that he wanted to do something first: he wanted to try painting HER portrait for a change. Confused, she had agreed, helping to set an easel up for him and getting out a few simple colors of paint, but what she thought was going to be a form of seduction where he would actually PAINT her had bizarrely turned into Ryan watching her with a puzzled expression on his face as the paint brush occasionally moved across the canvas. "Are you finished yet?"

"No, not quite."

"But this is boring and definitely not what I had in mind for us to do tonight." When he didn't reply but continued to stare at her, apparently lost in thought, she slumped down in her seat, crossed her arms over her chest in a huff, pouted, and watched the hands on the clock move by ever so slowly. After five more minutes had passed and he was still simply watching her, she jumped up before he could react and quickly moved across the room to where he was standing. "Here, let me see what you have so far so that I can help you."

Grabbing it hastily and acting nervously, he held it out of her grasp. "You can't see it yet!"

"Ryan, I promise, I won't be offended…even if I look like an unrecognizable blob. It means more to me that you wanted to take an interest in my hobby than anything else." Turning her charm up another notch, she smiled sweetly at him, slowly taking baby steps in his direction. "Please?" He only shook his head no. Still undeterred, she tried again. "I bet I could persuade you otherwise." Placing her hands at the edge of her form fitting sweater, she pulled it easily off her head, tossing it aside to remain only in her bra and skirt. "Now, if you just let me have a little peak at the picture, I'll take off another piece of clothing, your choice."

"The answer is still no."

"Fine," she exploded in anger that was so well acted he believed it, "if that's how you want to be, I'm going to bed. Your masterpiece," she said while rolling her eyes, "can keep you warm tonight. I'm sleeping alone."

As she turned her back on him, she could sense that he was already coming after her. Hearing the painting softly land on the floor, it was only seconds before he attempted to wrap his arms around her waist, drawing her back to him, but she was too elusive, pulling away and quickly running behind him to pick up the painting.

"Marissa, don't," he warned her, chasing after her, but he was too late. She had already seen it, and her tears were effortlessly rolling down her suddenly pale cheeks.

The painting slipped from her hands, this time falling with no grace and immediately getting paint on the hardwood floors. Neither of them cared. With questioning, shocked, and wide eyes, Marissa looked up at her boyfriend, searching his expression for answers, unsure of what to do or say. Finally, she posed, "are you serious?"

"I don't know," he taunted her, earning him a pained look for she just wanted a straightforward answer. "When I started that I thought it was for a patient, understanding, level-headed woman, but now that I see how you're reacting…"

"Ryan," she called out desperately, "would you just shut up and answer me?"

"I'm the one who proposed the question to you," he answered smugly, taking several steps towards her. "You're the one who still owes me an answer."

Wrapping his arms around her, his hands slipped up to remove her bra, his lips dancing their way across her chest. With breath abated and a catching voice, she finally replied to his painted question, whispering, "yes," as she ran her hands through his hair and brought his mouth to hers. Effortlessly, he picked her up, carrying her towards, instead of their bedroom, the bathroom. "Ugh, Ryan," she started, giggling, "are you lost?"

"Nope," he answered her calmly, his hands resting on her hips causing her skirt to rise scandalously high on her thighs. "Remember how I said you'd never get me to take a bubble bath, well I concede."

The night would fade on as Ryan and Marissa celebrated together first in their bath and then in bed, never once stopping for sleep, while the rest of the world kept moving around them, totally oblivious to their bliss. Their daughter slumbered peacefully at her Grandfather's, Austin snoring softly by her side, Callie daydreamed long into the morning, pretending to be paying attention while James, totally ignorant to her disinterest, shared all his fatherly advice about college and the real world, and Ryan's portrait laid smeared into the floor, it's words, Will you marry me?, forever changing the dynamic of the whole family's existence.

Simply lying under a sheet, a bare Ryan and Marissa lay tangled in each other, their bodies endlessly joined as one. It was late, well past their usual bedtime, but neither wanted to sleep yet. It wasn't everyday that they got engaged. However, their bodies were spent, exhausted, but they were enjoying the innocent beauty of holding their fiancé close. As his right hand ran lazily up and down her exposed back, they whispered to each other, their voices soft and dewy with affection, hope, and their dreams of the future.

"So" Ryan quizzed her, "long engagement or short?"

"Short. What about you," she returned his question with one of her own, "fancy or fancy free?"

"With my father, it'll probably turn into this event of the year fiasco, but, if I had my preference, I'd want a small wedding."

"You leave your father to me," Marissa told him pointedly. "I can get just about anything I want out of him. It's your turn to ask another question though."

"What kind of honeymoon do you want," Ryan queried, smiling broadly at the very idea.

"Actually," she began hesitantly, tilting her head to look up at him, "I was thinking that maybe we could take Aubrey with us. I know I'm probably being overprotective, but I just think I'd never be able to relax knowing my daughter was halfway around the world from me. Plus," she added audaciously, "if we take her with us, we can have a longer one."

"I like the way your mind works," he replied while kissing her tenderly, deeply, "and I'm glad you feel that way, because I really didn't want to leave her with anyone either. However, that said, that's all the planning for the honeymoon that you get to do. From here, I'll take control."

"Don't I even get a say in what I pack?"

With a completely straight face, Ryan answered, "No. That will be the very last thing you'll help with." He was absolutely serious, too.

"Do not traumatize our daughter," she ordered him playfully, pushing him away before rejoining their bodies so that they were even closer than before. "What do you see for us as a family after we're married," she asked moving their discussion ahead.

"Well," he answered slowly, cautiously, "I definitely see a couple more kids running around a home much larger, more family friendly than this place." That earned him another kiss before he moved on. "And, because I have no choice, I'll probably be working for my Dad doing whatever he tells me to do," Marissa smiled to herself as she listened to him talk, knowing he was about to get a major surprise from his Father, "and then every night I'll be able to come home to you and kids, our family."

"Isn't that a nice thought," she sighed dreamily, "a real, large, loving family?" After a moment of thought, she questioned, "which do you prefer, a nanny or daycare?"

"For when you go out shopping or to lunch with friends," he asked, confused, "because it won't be a regular thing. I mean, you'll be home all day with the kids."

With a slight edge to her voice, she pushed him. "I will?"

"Yeah," he returned, oblivious to the hot water he was diving into, "you'll be a stay at home Mom while I work to support us. It's what ever generation of the Atwood family has done."

"And it's also an archaic, sexist tradition that is going to stop with our generation," she sat up furiously, her voice loud and tense, as she pulled away from her newly made fiancé. "I can't believe you would even ask me to do something like that. If either of us should stay home with the kids, it should be you. You hate your job, only went to college because your Dad made you, and I'm the one with the Masters."

"Oh, so you're always going to rub it in my face that you're higher educated than I am," he remarked sarcastically, sitting up to face her. "It's good to know where I'm going to stand in this marriage!"

She glared at him, words, harsh, biting, angry words, boiling on her lips to be released, but she would not let them. Instead, tears of hurt and disappointment filled her eyes, immediately taking all the fight out of Ryan.

"Hey," he tried to console her, moving to pull her into his arms, "I'm sorry. If you want to work, that's fine with me. We'll work something out. I just know how much you hate leaving Aubrey, and I couldn't see you being able to leave our children in the care of another person while we both went off to work." When she didn't say anything, he kept trying. "Come on, Marissa. We should not be fighting right now. We just got engaged a few hours ago. We should still be celebrating."

Snapping the sheet away from him, she curled around it, leaving him bare and cold. "Leave me alone," she told him quietly, her body protectively forming into a ball far away from him on her side of the bed. Instead of listening, he gently tried to take her in his arms, but she brushed off his advances, raising her voice to give him the same demand. "I said leave me alone! I don't want to sleep with you tonight."

"Well, where do you want me to go?"

"I don't care where you sleep….or even if you sleep at all," she bit back harshly, immediately regretting her words. She knew she was hurting him, but his comments were still reverberating inside of her head, taunting her, humiliating her, so she fought back against her powerless fiancé. "Sleep on the couch, sleep on the floor, sleep in Aubrey's crib, just get out of our room!"

And so he did. As she heard the door click softly behind his retreating figure, sobs immediately wracked her thin, vulnerable body. Burying her head in her pillow, she cried for their ruined perfect evening, for overreacting to a comment he had made with the best intentions, never meaning to hurt or debase her, for making him leave their bed, a place that was sacred in a relationship for its symbolic meaning, and she cried because she didn't go after him to apologize and ask him to come back to sleep with her.

Time passed and sleep would not come. Marissa had long before learned that she could not fall asleep unless he was beside her, and it was made only worse by the fact that they were in the middle of a stupid, irrelevant fight that was utterly unnecessary. He had tried to fix things between them, but she had been too stubborn to accept his sincere apology, and now she was suffering for it. Straining her ears, she tried to listen for any sound from him, but their apartment was absolutely silent. Desperate, she stood up not even bothering to slip any clothes on, and opened their bedroom door to peak into the hallway. There was a soft light emanating from the living room but still no sound. Sniffling, she wiped her still falling tears off her forlorn, blotchy, utterly miserable face as she made her way down the hall, sighing out of contentment as soon as she saw his face wide awake and merely watching her. Without a word, he lifted his blanket, pulling it back for her to join him, and she ran across the room, immediately curling her body around his as she lay down beside him, his arms wrapping tightly around her. Needing to show him she was sorry, she placed soft, delicate, healing kisses across his chest, inhaling his masculine scent and letting it envelope her in a tender embrace. It wasn't enough though; she needed to do more.

With a low voice, she whispered to him carefully, still, after all the time they had been together, timid of what she was about to say. Neither of them had ever said it before. It was the last meaningful step they still needed to take in their relationship. "I love you," she finally breathed out. As soon as the words left her salty lips, she felt at peace, and she knew everything would be okay.

She felt him place a gentle finger under her chin, tipping her face up to look at him. Carefully, with his left hand, he dried her tears away, leaning down to dance his mouth across hers. "I love you, too."

Nothing else needed to be said, and, once again, everything was right in their world.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

"Ryan," Marissa complained slightly, "we've been driving around the city for hours." When he went to reply, she kept talking, interrupting him. "And do not even try to deny that we're in the city. You may have blindfolded me, but my hearing is just fine. I know we're still in LA."

"Yeah, but you have no idea where we are in LA, and I wanted that to be a surprise."

"What is with you and surprising me lately? First you proposed last week and now this. I'm not sure how much more my nerves can handle. You know how worked up and excited I get."

She felt him lean across the console and quickly take her mouth in a leisurely decadent kiss. When he finally pulled away, Ryan teased, "it's not the only thing I do that gets you worked up and excited." She went to speak, but he kept talking before she had a chance to reprimand him. "And don't worry, Aubrey's asleep. Now, sit tight. I'm going to get her out of the back, and then I'll come around and help you out."

True to his word, Ryan was at her side within moments, opening her door and teasingly reaching across her body to unbuckle her seatbelt. Taking one of her hands in his free one, he guided her out of the vehicle, holding their slumbering daughter carefully in his arms the entire time. Without him even having to ask, she wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her body into his as he led them to what she believed was the inside of a large building with high ceilings. Even though she couldn't see, her other senses could pick up on differences in her environment.

Instead of the unusual chill that had been lingering over Southern California the past few days, the temperature around her was suddenly warm, welcoming, climate controlled like the inside of a building. There was no breeze to ruffle her hair or make her worry that Ryan had forgotten to place Aubrey's tiny little hat on her unprotected head. The drone of the incessant traffic had been replaced by the comforting sound of their feet walking in sync on what sounded to be hardwood floors and Ryan's voice talking to her softly as he guided her deeper and deeper into the space he wanted to show her, the deep, happy tones of his voice filled with audible love and passion for her echoed off the walls and ceiling surrounding them and wrapping her in their gentle embrace. Just as they came to a stop, she realized that she was no longer impatient. Although she wanted to know what her surprise was, she could stay in the moment they were sharing forever, content to just BE with her husband and daughter, her family.

"So our little fight last week got me thinking," Ryan explained to her. She could feel him standing closely in front of her, but, still, she remained blindfolded. "I was wrong to just assume that you would want to stay home with our kids while I went to work, especially considering how hard you've worked to make something of yourself, but I was still uncomfortable with the idea that we would be leaving our kids with strangers to take care of them when we went off to work."

"They wouldn't be strangers forever," she spoke up trying to sooth his nerves. "We'd get to know them and kids are great with new people, often more accepting than their parents."

"But what if we didn't have to compromise," he suggested, cupping her face with his free hand as he continued to talk. "What if we could have both, careers and our children with us all day, every day?"

Confused, Marissa said, "Ryan, I don't understand. What are…."

"Wait here," he told her quickly, moving away from her. Before she could protest, she felt him slip away, leaving her alone with her swirling thoughts, but before she could make sense of anything, she was startled when she felt both of his arms slide possessively around her waist and pull her in to lean against his body.

"Where's Aubrey," she asked, concerned.

"She's laying down in a playpen I brought in here yesterday." She went to ask another question, but he stopped her by continuing to talk. "I promise, everything will make sense, but let me start at the beginning." The silent nod she offered him was the only confirmation of her acquiescence that he needed. "Okay, so on Monday when I went into work, my Dad called me into his office. I figured I'd done something wrong, that he had a new assignment for me, or that he wanted to talk about you and Aubrey….something he does quite often, but, instead, he completely took me by surprise. He said that he had realized that I wasn't happy working for him, that his dreams weren't mine, and that he wanted me to do whatever I wanted with my life."

"Well, that's good right," Marissa pushed him, eager to hear his reaction to his father's news.

"No, no, it's great," he agreed with her, dropping his lips to her neck and placing several delicate kisses to her bare skin, "and I know it's all because of you, so thank you."

"What," she yelled, spinning around in his arms and reaching to take off her blindfold but he wouldn't let her. "He wasn't supposed to tell you that! It was supposed to be a secret. He promised me!"

"And he didn't break it," Ryan assured her, "but I also know that my Dad would never have come to those realizations without some help, and you're the only one who knows me well enough, knows what I like and dislike, to see that I wasn't happy working there."

Without even being able to see, Marissa knew he was smiling at her. Smirking to herself, she felt him pull her back into his embrace, and she melted into it willingly, savoring the feeling of his arms around her. "So, now what? Did he just cut you free to do whatever you want to? Is there a time frame of how long you get to have this freedom? Tell me everything."

"He said that there's always a corner office and space on the company letterhead waiting for me if that's what I want, but, he'll understand if I never come back. The company's still mine to inherit; he wants to keep it in the family, but, for now, he's going to give me control of my trust fund early, let me use the money to go back to school or start my own business."

"Which option are you leaning more towards?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure," he admitted. "Going back to school seems appealing, because, if nothing else, I might be able to get my doctorate in something eventually and beat you." Marissa couldn't help but giggle at his comment, reassured that he felt comfortable enough with her degree to joke about it compared to the insecurity he had shown the night of their engagement. "But, at the same time, I don't want to be tied down to school schedules when we have Aubrey…and any other children that might come our way."

"Hey mister, one topic at a time," she teased him. "We'll get to that later. Finish what you were saying first." She smiled to herself when she felt his lips, once again, embrace her body, this time his mouth dancing seductively along her shoulders.

When he finally pulled away, Ryan continued. "Well, I also don't like the idea of you working full time and me not doing anything to support our family, and I was never a big fan of the whole school thing anyway."

"Maybe that's because you were studying the wrong thing."

"Maybe," Ryan agreed with her comment, "but, still, I don't want to rush into something that will be a mistake. For now, it's too late to apply for the spring semester, and I wouldn't know what I wanted to take even if I did get in. Plus, we have our wedding….and honeymoon coming up, and, if I were too deep in school or a new business venture, we wouldn't be able to take a long trip like I was hoping."

"A trip you refuse to tell me anything about," Marissa added, making Ryan chuckle.

"And whining about it isn't going to make me tell you," he teased her. "But, back to your surprise and what we're doing here. After I talked to my Dad, I spent the rest of the week going into the office, doing some research, and just thinking, and I decided on two things. For one, I want to organize everything about this wedding, not just the honeymoon, but every single part of it. At this point, I have nothing else to do with my time, and you're going to be busy with other things, and I want to do this for you."

"Well, of the two of us," Marissa playfully approved of his idea, "you are the one with more party experience."

"Ugh, don't remind me," Ryan groaned. "The only thing those parties taught me was exactly what I don't want for our wedding."

"Then it's already sounding perfect," she sighed with contentment, tilting her head back towards his as she waited for a kiss. He did not disappoint. "Now," she instructed, pulling away from their embrace, "what's the second thing you decided on?"

"This," he revealed excitedly, pulling off her blindfold and smiling widely at her. "What do you think?"

"I think….I think," Marissa stumbled over both her thoughts and her words, "I think it's big."

Ryan chuckled, before grabbing her hand eagerly in his and pulling her around the room as he talked rapidly. "I know, and that's why it's perfect. We can do anything we want with it. There are so many options. Besides this main room," he continued, motioning down a hallway, "there are several offices back there, up to code public restrooms, and there is a second floor just as big as this that is divided into several office suites."

"That's great, but I don't understand why we're here. How is this my surprise?"

"Because it's yours."

Flabbergasted, Marissa stared at him, her mouth hanging open widely. "Mine?"

"Well…ours. I figured it was big enough for both of us. For now, we'll just work on setting up your office here, a place where you can open up your own dietary consulting services. And, before you say anything," he stopped her, "I know that you don't want anything handed to you, and that's why you better get started quickly, because our first mortgage payment is due in less than a month, and you have to come up with your portion."

"Ryan," Marissa laughed gleefully, spinning around to look at the space with fresh eyes, "but….what made you even think of this?"

"Well, I know you were thinking about working for someone else, but this way you'll be able to make your own hours, and this place is big enough that the kids can be here, too, whether you and I are taking care of them or we have to hire help. At least, this way, they'll always be close by in case they need us. Plus, there's enough room so that when I figure out what I want to do, I can set up my own offices here with you. So we could have lunch together everyday, we could stay close to the kids, and, if we're ever so inclined, we could have quickies between clients."

"Do not even think about it," she chided him playfully. "That's so not going to happen. Besides being unprofessional," her glare turned into a mirthful smirk, "you know we're never quick."

"But what if it's a necessity?" When she looked at him puzzled, he explained, blushing slightly. "We could be trying to you know….get pregnant, and, if the perfect time arises, we would have to do whatever we can to take advantage of the situation."

"I really don't think it'll ever be that hard for us to conceive," Marissa responded, coming into his arms and sucking lightly on the sliver of his chest she could see above the closed buttons of his shirt. "Think about it. With Aubrey, nothing was planned. We tried to take precautions, and I still ended up pregnant."

Looking deeply into her eyes, she heard him respond in a whisper, "and that's something I'm thankful for everyday."

Leaning their foreheads together, she quietly said back, "me, too." After a moment, both of them regaining control of their emotions, she continued, "but imagine what it'll be like when we actually try to have another baby. I'll probably get pregnant as soon as you look at me."

"Well then we might want to start searching for a bigger place to live, because you could already be pregnant then," Ryan teased her, kissing the edges of her mouth as it fell open in shock. "I've been thinking about this a lot lately," he admitted, grinning sheepishly, "you me, and doing the whole pregnancy thing right this time. Aubrey is going to be two in five months, and I think we're ready for this, two kids. And I just….I don't know. I want to prove to you how different things are going to be now, how different I am now. I promise you, I won't miss a single moment of our next baby's life."

Wrapping her arms tightly around him, Marissa buried her face in his shoulder as she tried to show him just how much his words meant to her, how much she loved him, and how much she believed in what he was saying. "I know you will," she finally said barely able to hold back her emotional tears.

"Dada," a frightened little girl called out in the dim room. As they both turned around to look at their daughter who had awakened, they found her standing up at the edge of her playpen, her arms held out for Ryan to pick her up as she called for her Daddy.

Pulling apart, he laced their hands together as they made their way towards their little girl. "Coming," he called out to her. When they reached her side, Ryan bent over and picked her up, holding her tightly in his arms as their suddenly happy and smiling baby daughter as she babbled contently. When she picked her head up off of his shoulder, she leaned in and kissed her Daddy softly, giggling when he kissed her nose as well. "Can you give Mommy a kiss, too," he asked her as he felt Marissa's arms slide around his waist.

"Hey baby," Marissa cooed out softly as she ran her free hand through her daughter's golden curls. "Did you have a good nap?"

"Hi Mama," the little girl answered, reaching out for her Mommy to hold her. As Marissa took Aubrey into her arms, the little girl gave her a kiss as well before sleepily dropping her head unto Marissa's chest, her thumb sliding comfortably into her mouth.

"So, do you want the grand tour tonight," Ryan asked her as they rejoined their bodies together and he held her safely against his side.

"Actually," Marissa suggested, flashing a dazzling smile in his direction, "I think we should go home. Aubrey's still tired, and she's going to need dinner soon. Why don't we call your Dad this evening and see if he wouldn't be willing to baby-sit a few hours so we can come back tomorrow night and really explore this place."

"That sounds perfect," he agreed with her, dropping a light kiss onto her forehead before they started walking towards the door.

"Besides," she added as her hand slipped possessively into his back pocket, a habit she had formed the day long before at the doctor's office, "I think you need to practice looking at me tonight."

With eager, anticipating smiles on both of their faces, the newly engaged couple left what would be their future, their drowsy daughter nodding off in her Mother's arms, and went back to their present. His surprise had been a success, but, for the time being, they had more important things to focus on besides their careers: their family and their upcoming wedding.

Just as they had agreed, their wedding had been perfect, simple, private, and everything Marissa had dreamed of. As she got ready for bed that night, the first night she would spend with her husband…as his wife…as Mrs. Ryan Atwood, she couldn't help but think back over their special day. Ryan was tucking Aubrey in to sleep in the room beside theirs, the baby monitor they had set up allowing her to listen in to the bedtime story he was reading their daughter. Hearing his voice, the soft, joyful giggles of their daughter, and the sound of the sea lapping against the side of her father-in-law's private yacht, the yacht they would be sailing on for two weeks as they celebrated their honeymoon, Marissa smiled to herself, sliding off her slippers and letting the silk robe she had been wearing fall off her delicate frame. Crawling into bed, she positioned herself on top of the covers, the only thing on her body was the garter belt she had bought in secret as a surprise for her husband.

While Ryan had organized everything about their nuptials, she had been left to merely pick out her own dress and the dress that Aubrey would wear. While their daughter had worn a light blue sundress, something she could be comfortable in for the festivities, Marissa had kept her own attire effortless as well, wearing an unadorned white, strapless, long dress which fit loosely on her body and moved with the gentle April breeze coming off the ocean. Already dressed, she and Aubrey had met Ryan on the yacht where Callie had informed her she was getting married.

As exactly 11:30, she met Ryan, dressed in a simple pair of dress pants and an untucked oxford shirt, outside of her dressing room, and they walked up the aisle together, their little girl smiling happily in her Daddy's arms, as the clock moved on an upswing to symbolize the future of their relationship. The only guests in attendance had been Callie, Austin, and, of course, James. Their vows had been traditional straightforward, a formality to make their family complete. While she had felt as if their relationship was stable and secure since the moment Ryan had proposed, they both agreed it was important that they were married for Aubrey and any other children they were lucky enough to have. After the ceremony was over, the judge excused himself and left the six of them to celebrate privately. The biggest surprise of the day was that Ryan had cooked all the food himself for their event, finally sharing with his Father that he had a few talents he hadn't shown the world yet.

While they ate, laughed, and danced the afternoon away, the four adults talking amongst themselves while the two kids played in the late spring sunshine, Marissa sat back and watched her family interact. She watched as Ryan and Callie picked on each other. He would tease her about the fact that she did not bring a date with her, while she made fun of him for being so domestic. She watched as James continually tried the left over food throughout the party, his eyes straying admiringly to his son with a warm, genuine twinkle in them. Even if Ryan did not recognize the look yet, Marissa knew James was proud of him. She watched their little girl who was growing up so quickly before their eyes and becoming her own unique person, as she laughed, plotted, and enjoyed herself. It was amazing to Marissa to see how much she changed every day, and she couldn't wait to see what she became in the future. And, finally, she watched Ryan, she watched her husband, as he would find subtle ways all day long to show and tell her how much he loved her, his gentle touches and adoring glances making her body tingle with anticipation for their wedding night. Not only did she crave being alone with him, but they had more than just their wedding to celebrate once they were in private.

After a glorious afternoon, James declared that it was time for him, Callie, and Austin to return to his house, that the newlyweds deserved some time along together. As always, he had said quite seriously, he and Callie had planning for the future to discuss. Now that he had set Ryan free to determine his own future, it seemed as if he was training Callie to be his next young protégée. It had been decided that she would attend college locally and that she and her son would live with him while she was in school. Although he claimed it was for her benefit, they all knew he was lonely, that having the young girl and her toddler living with him brought him great joy. However, before they could sneak off, Ryan surprised them all by saying he and Marissa had one last thing to do before they left, and they needed them to watch Aubrey. Without a word of explanation, he had picked her up in his arms, cradling her to his chest, and moved to the edge of the yacht.

As he joined their mouths together as one, she had shut her eyes to savor the moment, and, before she knew what was happening, it felt as if they were floating, flying even as they wind rushed against their faces and the ground seemed to linger beneath them, but she had been wrong. They hadn't been floating or even flying; they had been falling. Ryan had jumped off the side of the yacht with her in his arms after he embraced her, and, moments later, they hit the water together, the cool, refreshing ocean soothing their sun-warmed skin even as their bodies stayed entwined together. They had floated to the top of the water, Marissa still cradled in his arms, and, finally breaking apart, he had teased her that they had literally taken the plunge together, making her laugh.

Above them she had heard the soft strains of James and Callie's laughter, of Austin's numerous questions, and of Aubrey's giggles as she called excitedly out for her parents, but it all had melted away when she had looked in Ryan's eyes. Jokingly, she had complained about him ruining her wedding dress, but he had responded it was all apart of his plan. He had to make sure she'd never be able to marry again, because she would only be getting married once. After several more kisses though, their moment had been interrupted when their family insisted they rejoin them to say goodbye. But that had been hours before.

Once James, Callie, and Austin had left, she and Ryan with their daughter had set sail west of California. He wouldn't tell her where they were headed for it was to be a surprise, but she, at that point, didn't really care. As long as she had the two of them with her, she would be happy anywhere. They had changed into dry clothes, and he had shown her how to steer the boat, and, while she had put Aubrey in her pajamas, he had warmed up some of their lunch, and they had shared a little picnic on the deck of the boat under the stars, officially ending their wedding day and ushering in their wedding night.

Now, as the yacht drifted along steadily in the ocean currents, she waited for her husband to join her, his gentle goodnight to their sleeping daughter the last thing she heard over the monitor before he quietly entered their room. The lights were dim, so it was hard to see, and, just as she had hoped, he snuck in with his back turned to her, shutting the door silently so as not to wake Aubrey.

"She's finally asleep," he revealed not knowing she had been listening the entire time he was gone. "I think it was a little weird for her not being in her room at home, but I can already tell she loves the sea."

"Just like her Daddy," Marissa responded sweetly, her voice dripping with tenderness and desire. She watched as he quickly moved towards their bathroom, unbuttoning his shirt in the process. "And just like her brother or sister will, too," she added, smirking when she saw his actions come to a sudden halt as he slowly turned around to look at her. Her smirk only turned to a large, ecstatic smile when she watched a look of wonder and joy spread across his tanned face. "Come here," she playfully ordered, sitting up in bed and standing up on her knees at the edge.

Without a word, he walked towards her, mesmerized by the sight of her nude body in front of him and lost in the raptures her words brought to his heart. Pushing his shirt off his muscular frame, she watched it fall to the floor before dropping her eyes and hands to his waistline, unclasping his pants and making them and his boxers drop from his body as well. Once he was free of all the restraints of his clothing, she moved back down to lie across the bed, pulling his body down to rest heavily on top of hers, sighing in contentment as she felt his weight encompass her with a sense of strength, support, and protection; she never felt more beautiful than when he laying on top of her, his body vulnerable and his heart free of the walls he put up to protect himself from the rest of the world.

Finally, he spoke, his words a breathless whisper against her beaming face as they stared into each others eyes. "I am good, aren't I?"

"Ryan," she exploded in a fit of laughter. That was not what she had been expecting him to say. "Talk about being conceited!"

"Well, what can I say," he defended himself as he slid down her body stopping to look at her slightly swollen abdomen. "When I set my mind to something, I do it, and I do it quickly. You heard Doctor Griffins yourself yesterday. We, in all likelihood conceived this baby that very night we went home to start trying."

She felt him drop several delicate kisses along her pregnant belly, a smile lighting up her face at the sensation of his lips against her bare skin. As he pulled away, she cupped his face in her hands and, with only her eyes, asked him to move back on top of her. "I can't believe your Dad and Callie didn't notice anything today," she remarked when he was settled on her once again. "I mean, I wore a loose dress, we didn't have anything alcoholic to drink, and I even let it slip that we have to be back in two weeks because I have an appointment."

"They probably just don't want to jump to conclusions," he offered, "but I have to agree that they were both acting a little dense. We'll tell them soon though."

"Maybe we should wait and torture your Dad, not tell him until Father's Day," she suggested, smiling wickedly. "Plus, I don't want to tell them too close to Callie's graduation day and take some of her spotlight. We'll also need to figure out how to explain this to Aubrey. I want her to be ready to be a big sister, prepared for it, and not scared about what's happening. I'm sure Doctor Griffins can recommend some books to us. Oh, and I made an appointment with a realtor for the first of May. That way maybe we'll be able to find a new place before I open….."

But her thoughts were suddenly cut off by Ryan's insistent mouth upon hers, the endless stream of words pouring forth out of her mind stifled by his passion for her. When she went to talk about, he broke their lips apart and stopped her by speaking himself.

"Marissa," he playfully reprimanded, "enough. This is our honeymoon. Our twenty-one month old daughter is sound asleep, we're completely alone in the middle of the ocean, and you, my pregnant, naked wife, is laying underneath me. I can definitely think of better things to do than talking."

"I'm not completely naked yet," she corrected him as she pushed against his chest to make him sit up. Once he was reclined back on his haunches, she lifted her leg and pressed her foot intimately against him, her eyes moving simultaneously with his towards the white lace garter belt resting highly up on her thigh. "I forgot to remove one thing. Do you think you could help me," she practically purred out seductively.

As soon as his hands touched her skin, Marissa felt as if she was on fire, every tiny piece of her body was tingling with lust and radiating heat, but he did not remove it right away. Instead, he dipped his head down to her leg and kissed his way around the delicate material, occasionally licking her thigh with his warm, moist tongue. Eventually though, after his mouth explored every nuance of her leg, he removed the garter, placing it carefully on their nightstand before saying, "you're definitely wearing that….and just that again," and wrapping his arms around her body to lift her up and join his eagerly awaiting one. As she invited him even closer, her legs relaxing for him as she took him deeply inside her almost immediately, he rejoined their mouths together, tasting, savoring, and experiencing her as often as they both wanted. The small yacht drifted on, the soft sounds of their daughter sleeping and the waves of the sea the only outside sounds penetrating the inner oasis they had created together, the occasional moan of bliss or ardently whispered 'I love you' their contributions to the music of their first, perfect night together as husband and wife.


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: Thank you to everyone who read this tale and enjoyed its progression along with me, pushing me and encouraging my writing to new and, hopefully, improved levels. This story has been a labor of love for me, a journey into my past for it is personal. I've shared a piece of myself with you, and, you in return, have rewarded me with your warm reception, gracious comments, and caring and attention readership. Once again, thank you, and I hope you enjoy this final chapter._

Charlynn

Chapter Fourteen

Taking a deep breath, Marissa squeezed her eyes shut to will her tears away before squeezing the hand of her oldest daughter for comfort and support and standing up to make her way to the stage. She didn't normally do things like this, speak in public. They had always preferred to keep their personal life just that, to themselves, but he was loved and respected by many, and each person whose life or heart had somehow been touched by him deserved to say a goodbye. Looking out at the hundreds of people sitting in the crowd, the row upon row of white, wooden chairs aligned neat and orderly along the back lawn of his manor and filled with somber men and women all in black, Marissa was thankful he had requested the ceremony be held outside. The sunshine lent a sense of warmth and peace otherwise absent on the late summer afternoon; the cool breeze off the ocean, its strains of salt burning her cracked lips, had always reminded her of him, the home he had finally provided her with, and a sense of safety only being in his presence could afford her. Finally, as she became accustomed to her environment, her eyes forgot the presence of all those strangers and she focused upon the seven people left in her life that meant the most to her. After all, the words she was about to recite from heart were for them: her family.

On the left side of the aisle sat Callie and her son Austin. Despite the fact that they were not related by blood, Marissa feared they would be hurt the most by his death. He had been their constant support, their companion, their distraction from the harsh realities sometimes placed upon a single mother and her fatherless son. They had lived with him since Austin was just a baby. When Callie had night classes, he was the one to watch her little boy, and if he needed a guest for a charity event, they were his dates. She was the daughter he never had, someone he would watch over, protect, and provide for, and he was the father figure who loved her and her child unconditionally that she had only hoped for before he entered her life. It was unconventional, but they were a family, a family that suddenly was missing a third of its membership. The little boy who wasn't so young any more, already twelve, sat with his head buried in his Mom's shoulder, both of their eyes red rimmed and glistening with unshed tears.

The right side of the aisle was comprised of her own immediate family, her own twelve year old child sitting on the end, an empty chair, Marissa's chair separating her from the rest of her siblings. Aubrey Selene, her first born, precious baby was growing up so fast it scared her mother sometimes. She could vividly remember the day she had first seen her image on the small sonogram screen, the day she had first held her in her arms, the day she had first seen her Daddy cradle her protectively against his chest. Now, she was a girl on the cusp of womanhood, mature, caring, nurturing, and intelligent. Just like her, Aubrey was an artist, one who was even more talented than her mother. To encourage her unique skills, she attended a special art academy, and, while for years, Marissa's artwork had dominated their home, it was now decorated with the young lady's masterpieces. For her last birthday, he had even surprised her with her own gallery opening, showcasing her artwork to the public. Now, he was gone, but his image lived on forever in the portraits Aubrey had created of him.

On the other side of her empty chair sat the oldest of her two sons, Landon Blake, who was ten. Looking down into his eyes, Marissa was reminded, as always, of the ocean. After they had returned from their honeymoon ten and half years before and announced that she was expecting again, it had been decided that they would move into the manor, the future of the Atwood legacy residing in the home that had been in the family for generations. The first thing her son had seen when he opened his eyes after being born at home had been the ocean, and, from that day on, he had been possessed by an unwavering love for the sea. He excelled at swimming, was fascinated by the wildlife of the water, and had even made sure that Atwood Industries donated large amounts of money to the protection of the valued and often endangered ecosystem. Landon was her little beach baby, his tan skin, sun-kissed blonde hair, and blue eyes the epitome of their Southern Californian culture, but, unlike the stereotype he represented, he respected the very world he embodied. With that love of the water, came a passion for sailing, a hobby her son had always shared with him. Never a beautiful Sunday would pass without them casting off the private shoreline with the wind in their sails.

Griffin Ryder, her charming and witty six year old son, sat beside his older brother with a gentle, soothing smile on his face. He understood the gravity of the day, that they had lost someone important to them, someone they had loved, but her son claimed he would want him to smile, he would want him to be happy. It made sense though for it was what he was known for. Whenever she was having a bad or stressful day, Griffin would climb up on her lap, wrap his little arms around her neck, and tell her one of his tried and true 'knock-knock' jokes. He was a born comedian. Even as a first grader, his timing and delivery when he was telling a funny story amazed her, and he would often perform for a room full of guests without even a hint of preparation. Just that morning he had made her laugh, informing her that if she ran out of things to say, he'd come up on stage with her and tell some jokes. The man they were honoring that day had always loved her son's enthusiasm and joy for life, but they could never quite figure out where he had gotten the traits. It was very un-Atwood-esque, and Marissa knew the comedic nature was not something her son had inherited from her side of the family. She liked to think that, instead, Griffin was just himself, special and unique.

Her youngest child, little Carly Evelyn, who was just two, was next. Marissa wasn't sure if she was lucky to not understand what was happening or whether, despite the pain it would cause her, she was missing out on something important in her life. After all, she would never remember him, never know how much he had loved her, how much he had enjoyed playing with her. She was the apple of his eye, the golden child who could do no wrong, perhaps because of her namesake. They would make sure she knew him by sharing their treasured memories and cherished photos and paintings, but he would never get to know her. He wouldn't see her ride her first bike, he wouldn't be able to overreact over her first boyfriend, and he wouldn't be able to watch her blossom into a beautiful young woman. As Marissa moved her eyes to the last person sitting on the right side of the aisle, she realized it was the fact that he would miss out on so much of her baby's life that saddened her the most.

Finally, she let her eyes fall upon the man she had fallen in love with thirteen years before. His eyes followed her closely, adoringly, devotedly, as he held their youngest child on his lap. After the months of pain and heartache they had put each other through, their relationship had always been strong and secure. She had been able to break through the walls losing his mother at a young age had put around his vulnerable heart, and she knew their trust and faith in each other was strong enough that losing his father would not ruin or even hurt their bond. Ryan was her best friend, her confidant, her partner, the father to her four beautiful, amazing children, and, perhaps most importantly, he was her lover. Together, they had built a lifetime on top of what was supposed to be a one night stand, and, together as a family and as a couple, they would be able to get through anything.

Smiling graciously down at the seven people in front of her, those important seven who made up her support system, her rock, Marissa, with confidence, began her eulogy to her father-in-law.

"The day I first met James Ryan Atwood III, I was pretending to be everything I wasn't and he was pretending to be everything he thought I wanted, and, despite my deception, he loved me anyway. You see, I was young, foolish, naïve, pregnant, and scared. I had walls up around my heart and shields over my eyes so he could, hopefully, not see who I really was. To me, it was safer to not let anyone in, to hide within myself, and let the world pass me by, but he didn't live like that nor did he accept that attitude in the people he cared about, and, luckily, he cared about me. He listened when I talked to him, trusted me and my opinion, and then entrusted me with the thing in this world most dear to him: his family, his son.

"Without interfering or telling me what to do, he helped show me who Ryan was, and he helped me fall even deeper in love with him. James gave me my husband who, in turn, gave me my children, the joys of my life. Before I met them, I was alone in this world, alienated, by choice, from my family, but they filled that void in my life that not even I was aware I was missing. With them, I found two men who respected and believed in me, two men who welcomed me into their home and made me an integral part of their life, two men who loved me for who I was.

"James not only gave me my personal life, but he also gave me the professional one I enjoy and strive to succeed in. When I met him, I was, as he would probably put it, dreaming small when I should have been dreaming big. I had lost someone close to me as a teenager through a terrible disease, and that tragedy drove me in life and made me want to help others. By handing me his company on a silver platter, millions of dollars of charitable funds at my disposal, he made sure I was able to make a difference. No one had ever believed in me like James had, and, for that, I will always be grateful.

"Now, we as a family, Ryan and myself, our four children, Aubrey, Landon, Griffin, and Carly, my best friend Callie and her son Austin, are left behind to carry on the traditions James has set for the Atwood family, to keep his legend and memory alive. Although making sure his company is a continued success is a part of this challenge, my father-in-law was not a businessman in my eyes. He was a father, a grandfather, a friend, a mentor, a kind heart who always wanted to help everyone in need, a man with vision for the future, patience for the presence, and respect for the past, a man who was loved deeply and who loved even deeper, a hero. He has touched every single one of our lives in a positive way, so now, as we leave here, as we say our goodbyes to the man I have respected more than anyone else in my entire life, it's our duty to live the way he would have wanted us to, to uphold his memory in our own actions, but, most importantly, we need to smile.

"As my son Griffin told me this morning, that's what his Grandpap would have wanted, for us all to smile, laugh, and be happy. After all, James lived a full, rich, wonderful life. He saw the world, made his mark on it, was a success both professionally and personally, won the love of a special, talented, beautiful woman, had a son who became the center of my universe, and lived the last twelve years of his life with the sounds of children's laugher, his grandchildren's laughter, ringing gleefully throughout his family's home. And I know that wherever he is, he's smiling down at us right now, probably cursing us all for having tears in our eyes, once again at peace with his beloved Evelyn by his side."

Casting her eyes towards the sky, Marissa stopped her speech, laughed softly to herself, and winked at the clouds. "Give 'em hell up there, Dad," she called out. "We'll be doing the same thing down here."

Blowing a kiss to the heavens, she went back to her seat, hugging and kissing each other her children and then finally her husband before settling back to listen to the other eulogies. Yes, she would miss him, but life went on, and, while it did, she would have the best part of James with her every step of the way: Ryan.

"Do you want me to leave you alone," Marissa offered, attempting to stand up from her husband's lap but he, instead, pulled her back almost immediately. "The letter's only addressed to you," she continued, explaining her offer. "Plus, I should probably check on the kids."

They were gathered at Evelyn's, the fourth and latest restaurant Ryan had opened so far. After they had returned from their honeymoon all those years ago, she had suggested that perhaps he would want to turn their empty downtown space into a restaurant, show the world what a wonderful chef he was. She knew he could do it, and she could help him with the menu. However, he had argued that with a second child on the way and surely more to follow, he didn't want to be tied down to the job of cooking every night, but the building he had purchased was in the perfect location and just the right size for a restaurant. So, hiring a world renowned cook, he had gone against James' warnings that the restaurant business always failed and opened up his first eatery, Selene's, named after Aubrey. It had provided a warm, inviting, family oriented, high end eating experience to the wealthy of LA, and, immediately, he and his first solo investment had been a success. Three other restaurants followed, each taking the middle name of one of their children. Blake's was in the style of a sports bar, a fun, lively, sometimes even rowdy source of good food, nightlife, and entertainment for its clientele. Though perhaps the most successful of the four businesses, it was the family's least favorite, because it was not suitable to intimate dining. Ryder's was the most relaxed of all the establishments. On the ocean, south of town, it specialized in seafood, employing the local fisherman to stock its freezers with their freshest catches. Finally, just a year before, Ryan had opened Evelyn's, his father's favorite of his four restaurants, because it revolved around everything he and his son associated with its original namesake. It served her favorite foods, was decorated in her favorite colors, featured her favorite paintings, and they even used her favorite flowers, freesia and sweet pea to give it the right ambiance. Because of how much he loved the place, often spending most of his evenings there in front of the family's private table situated before the fireplace over which hung a portrait of Ryan, Marissa, and their children, entertaining friends, socializing with his family, or simply losing himself in his memories of the past, James had requested his wake be held there.

However, it was late, the guests had all gone home, even Callie and Austin had retired to the apartment in the city they had shared with him, and only the six surviving members of the Atwood family remained. While Ryan and Marissa were sitting together on the couch in his office, the kids were in the front of the restaurant, Aubrey in charge of watching them all, as they played as only innocent children could after such a somber event. Every once in a while, peals of their naïve, joy filled laughter would trickle down the halls and float into the stuffy enclosure of Ryan's private quarters, warming their parents' hearts against the chill of their suddenly fatherless world.

"It may be addressed to me, but he would want you here," Ryan responded to her reason. "Besides, I need you with me when I read this."

It was a letter James' lawyer had left with him after he had departed the wake. Under his former employer's instruction, he was to hand Ryan the letter the day of his funeral so he could read it before the will was read the next afternoon. The envelope was simple, plain, unpretentious, the exact opposite of James but exactly the way he saw his son and daughter-in-law, the address on it simply put to Ryan in his father's sprawling, quick hand.

"Then this is where I want to be, too," Marissa agreed with him, offering him a quick kiss before settling herself back into his arms, making sure she was comfortable before he started reading. With no to-do or introductions, Ryan simply started reading his father's words out loud.

_Dear Ryan (and probably Marissa as well since the two of you do nothing without the other), _

_I wrote this letter for three reasons. The second two, an explanation of what my will is and my motive for not telling anyone I was sick, are, for me, trivial, but I know they will matter to you, especially the latter, but the main aim of this note is for me to finally tell you what I feel. _

_I realize I haven't been the perfect Dad. After your Mom died, I let you down, accepting the shell you built around yourself instead of helping you grieve and move on properly. If you hadn't been irresponsible enough to have a one night stand with Marissa, a night that resulted in your beautiful oldest daughter, something I've been grateful for since the moment I found out you were having a baby, I'm not sure you would have ever been happy in life. Your girls, as I've always called them, made you wake up to life, love, and joy. If I can impress upon you to do anything in your life, thank them every day for what they've given you, show them how much you care, and never forget the gifts of their love they have bequeathed you. _

_I, unfortunately, did not heed this advice when I was your age. It is my greatest fear that your Mother died not knowing how much I loved her. True, our marriage was not a perfect one, but it was not for a lack of affection on either of our parts. We just…circumstances outside of our control drove a wedge between us, her illness especially. I was too young, too stubborn to admit that there was really a problem until it was too late, and, by the time we all realized she needed help, I had lost a wife and you had lost your Mom. _

_Blindly, I made the same mistakes with you. I saw that you were hurting, that you needed me to be your father and not your friend, but I took for granted that you would bounce back without me having to open up and admit how much I love you, because, Ryan, I do. For twelve years, you and your Mom were my world, and then, after she died, you became the sole being that made living for me worthwhile. Everything I did, even if it didn't seem like it, building our company, forcing you to go to college, dictating your life, I did it with the best intentions, trying to show you how much I cared. But it took someone with a bigger heart, someone who actually understood you, your wife, to show me that I didn't have to show you how much I cared through physical, tangible representations, I just had to love you. _

_It took you falling in love to teach me how to really feel again. As I watched you discover your feelings for Marissa, I let go of the past that weighed me down and started to realize who you were as your own man. You might already know this, but, seeing as how I'm dead if you're reading this, I don't think my promise is binding, but Marissa was the one who asked me to let you go, to set you free to make your own way in this world. She knew you well enough, better than your Father, to realize you weren't happy working for me. So, not only do you owe the family you love and cherish to her but also your professional happiness as well. _

_Speaking of the big, beautiful family the two of you have made together, I must admit that you've made me the happiest man in the world. You have given me four amazing, unique, beautiful grandchildren, and it is my hope you have more kids. The two of you, after your rocky start, were made to be parents. Never have I seen two adults more suited to each other, to marriage, or to nurturing children. I might not be that wise in my old age, but I do know that each and every one of your children, Artistic Aubrey, my first-mate Landon, Funny, adorable Griffin, and bashful, demure little Carly Evelyn, will be wonderful and special in their own rights, just as any other children you might be lucky enough to have will be as well. All I ask is that you do one thing for me: tell them every day how much their Grandpap loved them. _

_Now, as I've rambled on long enough, let me get to the meat of this letter. My will, in my estimation, will not come as a surprise to either of you. The bulk of my estate, the actual wealth and possessions will, of course, go to you, Ryan, my son. Of course, because, as your wife so wisely predicted years ago, you've become a phenomenal success on your own, you don't need my money, but you've earned it for putting up with my butting into your life and harping on you for so long. You've been a good sport…the majority of the time. However, I don't leave my company to you. _

_I know this will shock the business world, perhaps even anger some of my colleagues, but I find that to be just a perk of this decision. Marissa has the shrewdest business mind I have met in years, even if she doesn't see it herself. It took me many years to make her live up to her promise to come and work for me. Like the woman I know and love, she fought me tooth and nail, wanting to help individuals instead of aiding a bigger cause, but now that she is running Atwood Industries, do not think for one second I'd let her go. When my will is read tomorrow, she'll be named the sole owner and CEO of my life's work. I trust her completely. She has not only earned my respect as a person but as an employee as well. I have no doubt she'll take our family into the next generation, advancing it far beyond my scope or imagination could have predicted while, at the same time, being a champion for the underprivileged, the abused, the downtrodden, and the oppressed. It is her generosity and kindness towards others which makes her a talented and powerful woman. Please, Ryan, if she's not reading this with you, tell her I say to 'break a leg.'_

_For each of your children, I have prepared a trust fund. In it, they will have adequate money to pursue their dreams, whatever they may be. Don't clip their wings, let them fly and soar as high as they wish. If they fall, simply be there to pick them back up, kiss away their wounds, and set them free again. I have faith in you though as a parent, my son, so I doubt you need your Father's advice. On top of their trust funds, each child is going to receive a special gift from me. Aubrey's, as you might assume, is my collection of artwork. She and her Mother have been the only two people who have appreciated the pieces since your Mom passed away, and Marissa has already taken possession of her favorites. I hope Aubrey finds them to be inspiring, a bench mark to set for herself to surpass. Again, Landon's special gift should come as no surprise. I leave him my yacht. Granted, he is only ten, but he's a better sailor at his tender age than I ever was. I know the old girl will be in good hands with him as her skipper. To Griffin, the funniest six year old in the history of comedians, I leave him keepsakes no one knew I had. Throughout my life, I have kept a secret: I am a closeted comedy junkie who has collected and hidden dozens of famous comedians' autographs over the years. From Bob Hope and Chris Farley to Bill Cosby and Dave Chappelle to Jerry Seinfeld and Tina Fey, I have them all. Guess it's not really a mystery anymore where your son gets his flair for the funny. And finally, to darling little Carly Evelyn, I leave her all of her Grandmother's jewelry, from her engagement ring to the necklace I bought her on our final anniversary. I know she'll be as beautiful as your Mother, son, and the gems will only serve to highlight her natural elegance and grace. _

_Finally, there are two members of our family who have touched my heart in a way I never imagined, young Callie and her son, Austin. The apartment I've shared with them for the past eleven years is theirs for as long as they want it; the deed will be transferred into their name upon my death. There are trust funds set up for the both of them so that they may never want for anything. All I ask is that you let them both know how much joy they brought to an old man's life. Never a day went by without both of them bringing a smile to my grouchy old countenance. _

_And finally, before I close, I feel I owe you an explanation as to why I never shared with you I was sick. Yes, I knew I had cancer, and yes, I'm sure if I would have tried to fight it, I would have perhaps lived a few months longer, but I was selfish to the very end, wishing to enjoy my family in my own way without them worrying about my health or dreading the day when I would pass away. Yes, I robbed you of weeks of time with me, but wouldn't you have rather had me stubborn and ornery as I always was instead of sickly and in bed? I'm an old fashioned man underneath all these hip clothes Callie keeps me in, and it would have killed me slowly every day to watch the worry you felt etch wrinkles upon your fresh, young face or damper the bright light that shines in Marissa's eyes or dull the rosy, healthy glow of your perfect children's cheeks. Instead, I went in my own way, in my own time, and, for that, I'm not sorry. _

_In closing, remember three things for me. Your tears will fade, your fears will diminish, but your fairytales are there forever as long as you reach out with both of your hands and hold onto them as tightly as you can. My fairytale has been you, my son, and the family you have given me. Thank you for loving me and thank you for letting me love you. It has been the single most profound experience and joy of my life. _

_Yours forever,_

_Dad_

Wordlessly, Ryan folded the letter, encasing it back in its envelope and sealing it away in the top drawer of his desk. Going back to his wife's side, he took Marissa in his arms, drying her tears as she simultaneously did the same for him. For several moments, they just stood there, savoring the comfort being in the others arms gave them, but, after leaning in and offering her a gentle kiss, Ryan pulled back, wrapping his arm around her still slim waist and curvaceous body.

"Let's go home," he offered, her head tilting down to rest against his shoulder serving as the only sign of her acceptance he needed.

Walking out into the restaurant, they found their children sitting together peacefully in the family booth, the three younger children listening eagerly as Aubrey told them stories of their Grandpap. Stopping to eavesdrop, they waited for her soft, soothing voice to finish the tale before making their presence known, scooping each child into their arms separately for a tender, loving embrace.

"Hey Dad," Aubrey asked, the last one to hug her Father. "Do you mind if I change the portrait above the fireplace? It's just….this was Grandpap's place, where he came to remember Grandma, and I painted something a couple of weeks ago for him. It's in the back."

"Or course, baby," he agreed, kissing the top of her blonde, curly head before watching his oldest daughter quickly run out of the room. She returned moments later with a covered portrait, revealing it for the family to see and for her Dad to hang up. It was a recreated image of a photograph of James and Evelyn from when they were first engaged. In it, his handsome face, a face that resembled that of his only son's, gazed down upon the only woman he would ever love in his lifetime, the adoration he felt for her visible in her eyes as the affection she felt for him radiated from her own deep pools of intense blue. It was the picture they used to announce their engagement, and it was the way Aubrey was determined to remember her grandparents. "It's perfect," Ryan finally responded after several quiet moments of simply looking at the artwork his eldest child had created.

Within seconds, it was upon the wall, its presence changing the entire soul of the restaurant. Slowly, the family made its way towards the front door, each member's eyes straying back to look upon the happy couple one last time. Not only was it their beacon to the past, but it was a glimpse into their future. With the lights dimmed and a soft gaze, the last generation of the Atwood family resembled the present one, and, in that moment, Aubrey knew that someday a similar portrait of her parents would hang in another restaurant as her children and those of her brothers and sisters looked upon their smiling, content faces just as she was then. She would capture their fairytale in a portrait for eternity and hope she could someday wade through her private and personal tears and fears to form a fairytale of her own just like her parents'. After all, just as her Mom had mused to herself earlier in the day, life goes on.


End file.
